Wiffi  DAYS  IN  FAYETTEVILLE 


■H 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

PRESENTED  BY 

Charles  W.  Broadfoot 

Cp971.26 

F28u 

c.Ij. 


War  Days  in  Fay ette ville 


"LEST  WE  FORGET' 


1861-1865 


WAR  DAYS  IN  FAYETTEVILLE 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


REMINISCENCES  OF 
1861  TO  1865 


COMPILED  BY 

J.  E.  B.  STUART  CHAPTER 

UNITED  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  CONFEDERACY 
MAY  1910 


Judge  Printing  Company 

Fayetteville,  N.  C. 

1910 


t\  ' 


a 


AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED  TO 
'THE  BOYS  IN  GREY" 


FIRST  CONFEDERATE  MONUMENT  ERECTED  IN 
NORTH    CAROLINA. 

DECEMBER  30TH,   1868,  FAYETTEVILLE. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/wardaysinfayetteOOunit 


(Earaima'0  -feafr 


P 


BY   MISS  SARAH  ANN  TILLINGHAST. 


(Written  for  the  unveiling  of  the  Cumber- 
land County  Confederate  Monument, 
May  10th,  1902). 


NCOFFINED  on  the  battle-field, 

Those  dreamless  ones  are  sleeping. 
Unconscious  of  the  memories 

Left  in  hearts  that  still  are  weeping — 
Weeping  for  those  that  never  came — 

Brothers,  and  friends,  and  lovers, 
Those  gallant  ones  whose  precious  forms 

Virginia's  soil  now  covers. 


Their  memory  to  us  is  dear ; 

Virginia  too  should  love  them, 
For  with  their  blood  her  fields  are  soaked, 

Tho'  now  so  green  above  them. 
Where  they  were  needed,  there  they  came, 

Lee  "could  not  do  without  them" 
And  never  on  a  fair  fought  field 

Could  foreign  valor  rout  them. 


On  Tennessean  hillsides  fair, 

Alas,  how  thick  they're  lying ! 
And  Pennsylvania's  rocky  heights 

Witnessed  their  faith  undying — 
Faith  in  their  cause,  which  made  their  wills 

So  strong  they  ne'er  did  falter 
In  giving  life — 'twas  all  they  had — 

To  lay  on  freedom's  altar. 


War  Days  in  Fayetteville 

Beyond  the  Mississippi's  flood, 

The  grass  is  o'er  them  springing, 
And  'neath  Atlantic's  sullen  roar, 

They  hear  the  mermaids  singing. 
Do  these  need  stones,  to  keep  their  deeds 

Fresh  in  the  hearts  left  behind  them? 
Alas !  alas !  the  young  must  learn 

While  we  can  still  remind  them. 


Then  raise  your  monumental  stone 

To  tell  the  grand  old  story 
How  splendidly  her  soldier  boys 

Fought  for  the  old  State's  glory ! 
And  let  the  little  children  know 

The  flag  their  fathers  died  for, 
Teach  them  the  cause  they  loved  in  vain, 

The  principles  they  tried  for. 


For  is  not  true,  tried  patriot  love 

A  corner-stone  worth  trying, 
O'er  which  to  build  our  country  up? 

Then  not  in  vain  their  dying. 
And  when  this  day  comes  yearly  round 

Get  out  the  flag,  and  wave  it 
Above  the  record  of  their  deeds 

Of  those  who  died  to  save  it. 


TAKING  OF  THE  ARSENAL 


BY  MRS.  ELKA  TILLINGHAST  STINSON. 

THE  town  of  Fayetteville,  North  Carolina,  although 
situated  amid  the  piney  woods,  may  be  called  a 
picturesque  place.  It  is  built  on  three  natural 
terraces  on  the  Cape  Fear  River,  and  the  big  Claren- 
don Bridge  is  the  most  conspicuous  feature  in  the 
landscape  and  the  only  bridge  on  the  river.  Doubt- 
less, the  horses,  if  they  could  speak,  would  say  the 
river  hill  was  a  very  important  consideration,  as  they 
have  to  haul  all  the  merchandise  brought  to  Fayette- 
ville up  its  steep  and  often  muddy  though  compara- 
tively short  ascent,  but  the  inhabitants  at  large  sel- 
dom see  or  think  of  it.  I  never  saw  the  river  at  this 
point  till  the  day  "everybody"  went  to  "see  off"  the 
two  first  companies  that  were  raised  in  the  county  to 
join  the  Southern  army.  In  my  grandfather's  day  the 
town  was  really  on  the  river,  and  the  shabby  old 
dilapidated  buildings  that  still  remain  were  the  abode 
of  the  elite,  but,  like  the  course  of  empire,  it  has 
gradually  taken  its  way  westward,  and  one  does  not 
see  a  single  substantial  dwelling  for  half  a  mile,  and 
not  a  store  is  to  be  seen  until  the  second  terrace  is 
reached,  nearly  a  mile  from  the  river.  The  market 
is  just  at  the  top  of  this  short  steep  ascent. 

The  second  level  extends  about  half  a  mile  west- 
ward where  Haymount  begins  to  rise,  or  "The  Hill" 
as  it  is  called  by  the  town  people.  The  town  is  in- 
tersected by  three  large  creeks,  two  of  which  are 
beautif ul,  clear  and  swift  running  streams,  furnish- 
ing in  ante-bellum  days  water  power  for  a  nnmber 
of  grist  mills  and  three  cotton  factories.  There  were 
besides  a  carriage  manufactory,  known  all  over  the 


8  War  Days  in  Fayetteville 

South,  besides  turpentine  distilleries  and  smaller 
workshops,  which,  including  two  other  factories  in 
the  vicinity,  gave  us  the  notion  that  Fayetteville  was 
quite  a  manufacturing  town.  The  corporate  limits 
were  at  the  foot  of  Haymount,  but  practically  "The 
Hill"  settlement  was  a  part  of  the  town.  It  was  laid 
off  in  streets  and  squares  and  the  residents,  my 
father  being  one,  were  almost  without  exception 
men  doing  business  in  town.  Several  of  our  largest 
dealers  and  most  prominent  lawyers  lived  there,  and 
every  morning  early,  numbers  of  one-horse  rock- 
aways  might  be  seen  conveying  them  down  the  hill 
to  business,  and  their  daughters  to  school.  The 
handsome  residence  surrounded  with  flowers,  imme- 
diately to  the  right  as  you  left  behind  the  town 
proper,  was  the  home  of  the  late  E.  J.  Hale,  editor  of 
the  Observer.  On  the  hill  were  the  most  beautiful 
flower  gardens  and  some  of  the  handsomest  houses; 
here  also  was  the  United  Slates  Arsenal. 

The  old  original  Arsenal,  counted  the  handsomest 
collection  of  buildings  the  town  could  boast  of,  in- 
cluded three  fine  residences  for  the  officials.  The 
buildings  were  all  painted  cream-color,  with  brown 
trimming,  and  were  arranged  in  a  hollow  rectangle 
with  the  citadel  in  the  center.  This  was  a  large  ob- 
long three  story  building  with  an  observatory  on 
each  end  of  the  roof.  The  intervening  grounds 
were  laid  out  with  walks  and  drives  and  set  with 
grass  and  evergreens.  Large  oaks  dotted  it  at  in- 
tervals. The  whole  was  surrounded  by  a  high  wall 
having  a  tower  at  each  corner  and  surmounted  by 
an  iron  railing.  The  powder  magazines  were  outside 
the  enclosure,  in  the  rear,  at  a  respectful  distance. 
The  Arsenal  grounds  were  one  square  back  from  the 
main  street,  and  fronted  at  right  angles  to  it  toward 
the  east.  The  ground  fell  away  rapidly  to  the  south 
and  east,  giving  it  a  commanding  position  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  river,  about  two  miles  off.    The  view 


Taking  of  the  Arsenal  9 

from  the  citadel  was  very  fine.  The  town  lay  at  its 
feet  and  two  very  large  ponds,  they  might  be  called 
lakes,  sparkled  in  the  sun  to  the  south.  Altogether 
we  thought  it  a  very  pretty  place.  We  brought  our 
visiting  friends  here.  'Twas  our  central  park  on  a 
small  scale.  But  to-day  there  is  not  one  brick  upon 
another,  and  one  of  the  chief  grudges  which  the  peo- 
ple bear  Sherman  is  for  the  destruction  of  their 
Arsenal. 

A  TOWN  OF  THE  OLDEN  DAYS. 

Before  the  days  of  railroads,  Fayetteville  had  a 
large  trade  from  the  western  part  of  the  State  and 
upper  counties  of  South  Carolina.  In  my  day,  how- 
ever, she  had  lost  all  but  the  turpentine  trade  of  the 
piney  woods  country.  She  had  been  for  many  years 
apparently  a  finished  town.  There  were  no  fine 
public  buildings  nor  elegant  houses,  no  very  wealthy 
people  in  the  place,  but  there  were  neat  and  conve- 
nient houses,  well  furnished,  and  a  great  deal  of  solid 
comfort.  The  parlor  of  one  of  our  well-to-do  citizens 
might  be  taken  as  a  fair  type  of  the  whole  house. 
The  people  lived  well  and  were  whole-hearted  in 
their  hospitality.  They  cared  for  the  destitute  and 
unfortunate  at  home.  Being  fifty  miles  from  the 
railroad,  the  place  was  really  a  large  country  village, 
though  ranking  third  as  to  population  among  the 
towns  of  the  State,  and  took  things  slow  and  easy. 
Wilmington  laughed  at  her  being  a  year  behind  the 
fashions,  but  she  did  not  mind  that,  caring  little  for 
vain  display.  The  place  was  originally  a  Scotch  set- 
tlement, and  first  called  Campbellton,  and  the  com- 
paratively isolated  situation  which  she  had  held  for 
so  many  years,  tended  to  preserve  the  original  char- 
acteristics of  her  fathers  almost  intact  in  her  people 
to  the  breaking  out  of  the  war.  They  preferred 
plain  comfort  and  the  education  of  their  children  to 
that  feverish  striving  after  display,  often  with  very 


10  War  Days  in  Fayetteville 

slender  backing,  which  is  so  characteristic  of  to-day 
in  our  fast  little  railroad  towns.  They  were  cau- 
tious, economical,  industrious,  in  earnest  about 
everything,  and  not  a  little  stubborn  in  their  preju- 
dices. They  were  religious  and,  considering  their 
means,  supported  their  churches  well.  Fayetteville 
was  to  them  the  only  place  in  the  world  really  worth 
living  in,  and  they  had  a  smile  of  superior  pity  for 
the  fastness  of  their  neighbors  on  the  railroads  who 
laughed  at  their  old-fashioned  notions. 

When  Secretary  Floyd,  of  Buchanan's  Cabinet, 
moved  a  quantity  of  arms  and  ammunition  from 
Northern  arsenals  and  distributed  it  among  those 
located  at  the  South,  he  added  to  the  small  quantity 
of  stores  in  the  Fayetteville  Arsenal.  Then  the  citi- 
zens began  to  find  out  for  the  first  time  what  an 
arsenal  was  made  for.  Previously  it  had  been  es- 
pecially supposed  to  be  mainly  useful  as  a  comfort- 
able berth  for  old  Capt.  Bradford,  who  generally  held 
the  place  of  port  commander,  and  kept  bachelor's 
hall  in  one  of  the  fine  houses,  having  several  other 
old  gentlemen  as  his  assistants  in  taking  care  of  the 
empty  building.  We  children  thought  it  was  a  jolly 
place  for  fireworks  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  There 
was  a  machine  shop  of  some  kind  run  by  a  thirty- 
horse  power  steam  engine,  but  nothing  of  any  great 
consequence  was  done.  'Twas  but  child's  play  as 
compared  with  the  work  done  afterwards  by  the 
Confederate  Government.  Now,  however,  all  was 
changed;  there  was  a  large  quantity  of  arms  and 
ammunition  stored  here,  and  suppose  towards  Christ- 
mas, when  the  negroes  were  generally  supposed  to 
be  taken  with  annual  longings  to  "rise,"  the  muni- 
tions of  war  should  prove  a  temptation  too  strong 
for  them  to  resist?  Timid  people  began  to  ask  each 
other  how  Capt.  Bradford  and  his  old  gentlemen 
were  going  to  guard  them.  Men's  hearts  were  fail- 
ing them  for  looking  for  those  things  that  were  com- 


Taking  oj  the  Jlrsenal  11 

ing.  The  scent  of  war  was  in  the  air.  The  negroes 
might  take  the  infection.  The  end  of  all  the  talk 
was  that  a  request  was  sent  from  some  of  our  citi- 
zens to  the  secretary,  asking  that  a  guard  of  soldiers 
be  sent  to  protect  the  Arsenal.  The  request  was 
complied  with,  and  the  people  breathed  free  for  a 
while. 

ARRIVAL  OF  THE  ARTILLERY. 

I  was  a  very  young  miss  in  my  teens,  then,  but  I 
remember  as  well  as  yesterday  my  impressions  on 
seeing  the  first  real  soldiers  I  had  ever  beheld,  ex- 
cept our  post  commanders,  who  always  wore  citizens' 
clothes.  The  morning  they  arrived  we  were  wend- 
ing our  way  down  the  hill  to  school,  and  met  them 
marching  up  to  the  Arsenal.  There  were  forty  men, 
including  officers.  It  was  a  drizzly  fall  day  and  they 
were  wrapped  in  their  long  overcoats.  They  were 
artillerymen,  and  carried  no  guns  upon  their  shoul- 
ders, and  as  they  walked  quietly  along  without  fife 
or  drum  I  thought  they  looked  very  poky  and  hum- 
drum, not  near  so  martial  as  our  volunteer  companies 
on  the  glorious  Fourth,  parading  with  their  gleam- 
ing bayonets,  gay  uniforms  and  plumed  hats,  to  the 
music  of  a  band  playing  "Hail  Columbia!"  We 
thought  very  little  more  of  them  at  the  time,  but 
the  day  came  when  they  became  suddenly  invested 
with  a  fearful  importance  in  our  inexperienced  eyes. 

The  winter  wore  on,  as  winters  will  always, 
whether  men's  hearts  are  heavy  or  light;  the  spring 
came  and  with  it  the  inauguration  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  and  the  proclamation.  The  character  of  our 
people  being  such  as  I  have  described,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  like  the  border  people  generally  they 
had  hitherto  hesitated  at  taking  the  serious  step  of 
separating  from  the  Union,  but  when 

"Abe's  proclamation  in  a  twinkle, 
Stirred  up  the  blood  of  Rip  Van  Winkle," 


12  War  T>ays  in  Fayetteville 

they  sprang  to  arms  as  one  man.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered how  North  Carolina  then  went  out  of  the 
Union  without  any  ceremony,  and  companies  were 
raised  and  equipped,  and  regiments  formed,  before 
the  State  had  time  for  the  formal  secession,  which 
took  place  on  twentieth  of  May.  Fayetteville  had 
two  companies,  fully  equipped,  in  Raleigh  before 
that  day.  We  had  already  two  holiday  volunteer 
companies,  of  not  more  than  forty  or  fifty  men  each. 
They  proceeded  to  fill  up  their  ranks,  and  soon  had 
over  a  hundred  men  each  on  their  rolls.  The  wo- 
men were  as  anxious  to  do  their  part  as  the  men,  and 
there  was  plenty  for  them  to  do.  The  volunteers 
were  to  be  fitted  out,  and  there  were  miles  of  sewing 
to  be  done,  to  get  all  the  needed  garments  put  to- 
gether. But  before  we  got  well  started  with  our 
needles  Governor  Ellis  sent  orders  to  Gen.  Draughan, 
who  commanded  the  county  militia,  to  call  out  his 
men  and  take  possession  of  the  Arsenal,  before  the 
authorities  at  Washington  could  send  in  reinforce- 
ments. Ah!  then  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro. 
Monday  was  the  day  appointed  for  the  great  under- 
taking. I  have  forgotten  the  exact  date,  but  it  was 
about  the  middle  of  April.  The  ladies  had  been  at 
work  fixing  up  hats  for  the  volunteers.  It  had  been 
decided  that  all  the  superfluous  ornaments  should  be 
removed  from  the  coats  of  the  old  members  of  the 
companies,  and  these  garments  put  on  a  war  footing. 
They  were  now  to  be  put  to  a  different  use  from 
that  for  which  they  were  originally  made.  The  fan- 
ciful helmets,  with  their  bright  colored  plumes, 
were  to  be  exchanged  for  soft  hats.  But  we  thought 
that  soldiers  must  have  a  plume  in  their  hats,  so  it 
was  decided  that  a  black  feather  would  be  the  cor- 
rect thing  with  which  to  go  into  real  war,  and  there 
was  a  call  for  contributions  of  feathers,  which  came 
in  from  the  ladies  in  abundance.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  this  decoration  of  hats  that  the  order  for  our  men 
to  take  their  first  march  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth 


Taking  of  the  Jlrsenal  13 

was  given.  It  was  necessary  to  go  to  work  after 
service  Sunday  to  get  all  the  hats  ready  in  time  for 
next  day's  work.  Cartridges,  too,  could  be  made  by 
the  women,  and  all  hands  were  busy. 

All  the  county  militia  were  put  in  requisition  for 
the  deed  of  daring,  and  early  next  morning  in  every 
direction  they  were  coming  in.  Young  and  old,  rich 
and  poor,  flocked  to  the  place  of  rendezvous.  There 
was  a  company  of  "Home  Guards"  formed  for  this 
special  occasion,  comprising  the  citizens  over  age, 
and  every  man  in  town  that  could  shoulder  a  gun, 
except  the  preachers,  was  under  arms.  There  was 
our  middle  aged  physician,  who  stood  at  the  head  of 
our  "faculty,"  and  was  generally  believed  by  us^  to 
be  the  first  doctor  of  the  age,  mounted  on  a  prancing 
steed,  with  a  feather  in  his  hat,  on  duty  as  a  staff 
officer.  There  was  a  well  known  portly  old  lawyer, 
pompous  but  true  hearted,  marching  as  private  in 
the  ranks  by  the  side  of  a  white  haired  merchant 
whose  spare  form  held  a  heart  beating  with  the  reso- 
lute blood  of  the  Scots.  Bald-headed  presidents  of 
banks,  and  grizzly-bearded  clerks  walked  side  by 
side,  resolved  to  do  or  die.  Few  of  these  old  gentle- 
men probably  had  shot  a  squirrel  in  thirty  years,  or 
taken  as  long  a  walk  as  the  distance  from  the  ren- 
dezvous up  hill  to  the  Arsenal,  but  they  swelled  the 
ranks  of  the  mighty  army,  and  doubtless  helped  to 
convince  the  handful  of  men  who  held  the  strong- 
hold that  "resistance  was  useless." 

A  MORNING  OF  GREAT  SUSPENSE. 

But  would  there  be  any  resistance  on  the  part  of 
the  forty  drilled  and  disciplined  soldiers  who  com- 
prised the  garrison?  That  was  a  question  which 
filled  the  hearts  of  the  women  with  fear,  for  there 
was  not  a  house  that  did  not  have  one  or  two  men  in 
the  field  that  day.  Brevet-Major  Anderson,  the 
captain  of  the  company,  had  already  resigned  his 


14  War  Ttays  in  Fayettecille 

commission,  but  had  not  heard  from  Washington. 
He  was  sick  in  bed  moreover,  and  Lieut.  DeLagnal 
was  in  command  of  the  men.  The  lieutenant's  pre- 
dilections were  not  so  well  known.  The  orderly  ser- 
geant had  deserted  with  the  intention  of  joining  one 
of  our  companies  whenever  safe  opportunity  should 
arrive  and  was  in  hiding,  some  of  our  young  men 
could  doubtless  have  told  where.  The  relations 
previously  existing  between  the  garrison  and  towns- 
people had  not  become  strained  since  the  prepara- 
tions for  war  set  in.  The  officers  went  and  came  to 
the  hotels  as  usual,  where  they  boarded  with  their 
wives.  Of  course  it  would  be  folly  in  a  handful  of 
men  so  far  from  their  base,  and  in  the  heart  of  a 
hostile  country,  to  resist,  as  eventually  they  would 
be  obliged  to  surrender  or  die. 

But  should  they  consider  it  their  duty  to  destroy 
the  Arsenal  or  resist  its  capture,  with  their  superior 
discipline  and  their  artillery  within  the  shelter  of  the 
walls,  they  might  mow  down  hundreds  of  our  raw 
militia  before  they  could  be  overwhelmed  by  num- 
bers, the  artillery  of  the  attacking  force  consisting 
of  two  old  iron  guns  of  small  calibre  which  had  been 
used  for  many  years  to  fire  salutes  on  the  glorious 
days  of  our  republic.  My  father  had  died  only  two 
months  previously,  and  the  brother  who  had  taken 
his  place  in  the  large  family  was  in  the  ranks  with 
his  townsmen.  The  position  of  the  Arsenal,  sur- 
rounded with  dwellings,  with  the  town  close  at  the 
foot  of  the  hills,  would  have  necessitated  fearful 
havoc  among  our  houses  from  the  use  of  artillery. 
Fayetteville  had  been  burned  up  twice  in  the  busi- 
ness life  of  my  father,  but  a  common  home  made 
fire,  though  fearful  enough  in  itself,  would  be  ren- 
dered a  hell  with  flying  shot  and  hissing  shells  added 
to  the  horrors  of  the  scene.  So  thought  and  felt  our 
women  on  that  eventful  morning.  The  men  all  pro- 
fessed to  be  confident  that  the  place  would  be  sur- 


Taking  of  the  Arsenal  15 

rendered  on  demand  by  such  a  large  force  as  we  pro- 
posed to  send  up  the  hill.  Nevertheless  they  looked 
serious,  and  probably  during  the  four  years  of  the 
war  never  was  a  morning  of  greater  suspense  en- 
dured than  on  the  eventful  day  "when  the  Arsenal 
was  taken." 

The  mention  of  that  day  excites  a  smile  now  in 
Fayetteville.  It  appears  in  the  light  of  a  burlesque 
upon  war;  but  our  sufferings  were  none  the  less  real 
at  the  time.  I  have  always  regretted  that  we  did 
not  turn  out  to  see  our  band,  twelve  hundred  strong, 
as  they  marched  up  the  hill,  but  at  our  house  the 
elders  thought  it  advisable  that  the  women  should 
keep  quiet  at  home,  and  we  missed  the  imposing 
sight.  There  is  a  very  deep  cut  in  the  road  at  the 
steepest  part  of  the  long  hill,  however,  and  from  the 
top  of  the  bank  on  either  side  a  good  view  of  the  ad- 
vancing host  was  had  by  the  hill  people  near  by, 
whose  terror  was  overcome  by  their  curiosity.  But 
as  we  lived  more  than  half  a  mile  further  on  we  saw 
nothing  of  it.  Doubtless  as  the  Home  Guard  passed 
irreverent  girls  were  found  to  laugh.  It  is  not  often 
in  this  world  that  any  situation  of  affairs  can  be 
found  where  school  girls  will  not  find  something  to 
laugh  at.    "Dear  me !  how  much  fighting  can  these 

old  men  do?"    "Do  look  at  old  Mr. .  He  looks  as 

if  a  feather  would  knock  him  over !"    "Lawyer 

looks  as  if  he  thought  himself  Napoleon  himself;  and 
I'll  venture  to  say  he's  tired  half  to  death  now." 
"Don't  you  know  some  of  them  are  scared?"  "Good- 
ness! Lucy,  let's  go  home;  suppose  they  should  send 
a  volley  of  shells  right  over  here?"  and  so  on. 

THE  CAPTURE  OF  THE  ARSENAL. 

But  the  regiment  passed  on  its  way,  and  arriving 
at  the  proper  distance,  halted  and  sent  in  a  flag  of 
truce  by  the  hands  of  the  General's  staff,  demanding 
the  surrender  of  the  Arsenal  to  the  forces  of  the 


16  War  'Days  in  Fayetteville. 

State  of  North  Carolina.  Lieut.  DeLagnal  was  in 
command  at  the  time.  He  observed  the  proprieties 
of  the  occasion  with  becoming  gravity.  Gen.  Drau- 
ghan  with  his  staff  conducted  him  under  the  flag  of 
truce  to  survey  the  attacking  force,  and  he  was  con- 
vinced that  it  was  useless  for  him  to  contend  against 
such  odds.  He  asked  of  the  captain  of  the  company 
"how  many  rounds  of  ammunition  his  men  had?" 

"Three."  was  the  answer. 

"Do  you  consider  three  rounds  sufficient  to  go  in- 
to battle  with?" 

"When  that  is  gone,  sir,  we'll  club  our  guns." 

It  was  a  warm  day  for  the  season,  and  the  new 
soldiers  were  very  thirsty  and  saw  no  reason  why 
they  should  not  refresh  themselves  with  a  drink  of 
water  while  waiting  to  hear  whether  or  no  that  hour 
might  be  their  last.  But  one  valiant  captain  who 
had  worked  himself  up  into  the  proper  frame  of 
mind  for  the  stern  realities  of  war,thought  doubtless 
it  was  very  unsoldierly  to  be  complaining  of  thirst  af- 
ter so  short  a  walk  under  an  April  sun.  He  sternly 
informed  his  men  that  they  did  not  come  there  to 
drink  water,  but  to  die.  After  much  parley  and 
what  seemed  an  almost  interminable  delay  on  the 
part  of  the  waiting  and  anxious  women,  it  was  a- 
greed  that  the  Arsenal  and  all  its  contents  were  to 
be  given  up  to  the  State  troops  on  condition  that  the 
garrison  should  be  allowed  to  salute  their  flag  before 
lowering  it  and  should  have  the  liberty  of  returing 
to  Washington  with  their  baggage  in  safety.  DeLag- 
nal being  the  only  officer  available,  considered  it  his 
duty  to  stay  by  them  till  they  were  put  in  charge  of 
the  proper  authorities.    So  the  Arsenal  was  taken. 

The  salute  was  fired  first,  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
were  lowered,  then  our  men  marched  in  and  raised 
the  State  flag  and  saluted  it.  The  United  States 
troops  left  the  old  flag  behind  when  they  went  away 
and  some  of  the  ladies  afterward  converted  it  into  a 


Taking  of  the  JlrsenaL  17 

Confederate  flag,  when  the  Stars  and  Bars  had  been 
settled  upon.  When  Col.  Childs,  with  his  company 
of  Confederate  soldiers,  evacuated  the  place  before 
the  march  to  the  sea  overwhelmed  it,  he  carried  off 
the  old  flag,  and  the  final  fate  of  it  was  to  be  torn  in 
strips  and  distributed  among  his  lady  friends  as  me- 
mentoes.   I  have  one  of  them  still  in  my  possession. 

In  the  mean  time,  in  our  little  neighborhood  on  the 
very  verge  of  the  Hill  settlement,  half  a  mile  from 
the  Arsenal,  and  half  that  distance  from  the  main 
road,  we  were  cut  off  from  sight  of  the  hill  summit 
by  groves  of  trees,  and  could  not  see  the  flag,  nor 
hear  anything  that  was  going  on.  We  were  very 
quiet  at  our  house  and  tried  to  go  about  our  usual 
employment,  but  the  servants  were  frightened  half 
out  of  their  wits.  With  wild  eyes  the  middle-aged 
cook  came  in. 

"Mistis,"  she  cried,  with  trembling  lips,  "I  hearn 
them  people  was  gwine  ter  throw  a  bum  over  dat 
way  and  one  over  dis  'er  way,  befo  dey  give  up  de 
Ars'nal,  and  I  jis  come  ter  tell  you  I  was  gwine 
down  in  de  holler." 

We  heard  afterwards  that  the  gulleys  in  the  hill- 
side were  lined  that  morning  with  the  frightened  ne- 
groes. 

Our  nearest  neighbor  was  a  near  relation,  a  maiden 
lady,  one  of  those  persons  who  always  look  for  the 
worst.  The  dear  old  lady  was  in  a  terrible  state  of 
mind,  and  we  all  felt  the  responsibility  of  supporting 
her  in  the  trying  hour,  although  her  own  status  in 
the  contest  was  not  greater  than  that  of  her  neigh- 
bors all  round.  We  had  all  been  accustomed  to  hear 
salutes  fired  on  National  festivals  by  our  town's  peo- 
ple in  a  slow  and  deliberate  manner,  with  an  interval 
of  several  minutes  between  shots;  but  when  the 
United  States  soldiers  fired  off  their  thirty-one  guns 
in  rapid  succession  with  scarcely  a  second  between, 
'twas  an  awful  sound  in  our  ears.    We  thought 


18  War  ©ays  in  Fayelteoille 

surely  it  was  a  broadside  mowing  down  our  devoted 
band.  Our  excited  neighbor  seemed  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  her  brother  and  his  son  "had  rushed 
into  the  field  and  foremost  fighting  fell"  at  the  first 
shot,  and  she  began  walking  up  and  down  her  front 
piazza,  wringing  her  hands,  screaming  at  the  top  of 
her  voice,  "Oh,  my  poor  brother!  Oh,  my  poor 
John !"  She  could  be  heard  all  over  the  neighbor- 
hood. All  the  rest  of  us  were  as  much  frightened, 
but  we  did  not  scream. 

At  length  I  remembered  that  the  flag  could  be 
seen  from  the  house  of  a  neighbor,  perhaps  three 
hundred  yards  off,  but  out  of  hearing. 

"I'll  run  over  to  Mr.  W's  and  see  if  the  flag  is  up," 
said  I,  and  away  I  sped  though  it  was  towards  the 
field  of  battle;  and  when  I  put  my  foot  on  the  high 
piazza— lo !  the  bare  flag-staff  greeted  my  delighted 
eyes. 

The  lady  of  the  house  was  seated  on  the  piazza 
apparently  calmly  sewing,  (she  was  one  of  the  wo- 
men who  helped  to  bear  the  burdens  of  the  world,) 
but  I  had  no  time  for  a  visit  to  our  good  friend  that 
day. 

"I  must  run  right  back,"  I  said,  "everybody  is 
frightened  nearly  to  death  over  our  way,  and 
cousin is  almost  crazy." 

That  was  the  promptest  errand  I  ever  did,  and 
probably  among  the  most  acceptable  in  its  results. 

THE  SLY  OLD  WARRIORS. 

So  passed  that  eventful  day,  at  that  time  doubtless 
the  most  anxious  that  Fayetteville  had  seen  in  that 
generation.  Some  simple  souls  imagined  the  war 
was  over.  One  old  lady  remarked  that  she  had  seen 
one  war,  and  hoped  never  too  see  another.  But  the 
provoking  part  to  us  females  was  to  hear,  as  we  dis- 
cussed the  day  with  our  returned  braves  in  the 
evening,  how  it  had  come  out  that  the  heads  on  both 


Taking  oj  the  jJrsenal  19 

sides  had  had  a  private  consultation  beforehand,  and 
the  terms  of  the  surrender  had  been  agreed  upon 
and  papers  signed  in  a  very  friendly  manner.  The 
parade  of  the  day  had  been  a  mere  comedy  to  set 
things  right  at  Washington,  but  of  course  the  rank 
and  file  were  kept  in  ignorance  of  this  fact  till  after 
all  was  over. 

Lieut.  James  DeLagnal  took  his  men  at  once  to 
Washington  and  handed  them  over  to  the  depart- 
ment. The  other  two  lieutenants  belonging  to  the 
company  had  never  been  to  Fayetteville.  They 
sided  with  the  Union,  and  we  heard  that  this  com- 
pany was  among  the  regular  troops  who  bore  the 
brunt  of  the  first  battle  of  Manasses,  and  that  it  was 
almost  annihilated  on  that  field.  DeLagnal  was  of- 
fered a  commission  as  captian  but  declined  the  hon- 
or, and  resigning  his  commission  joined  the  South- 
ern army  in  Virginia.  He  behaved  with  great  gal- 
lantry at  the  fatal  conflict  on  Rich  Mountain,  and 
was  long  supposed  to  have  been  left  among  the 
slain.  He  dropped  out  of  my  record  after  that,  but 
I  believe  he  survived  the  war. 

After  the  Arsenal  was  off  our  minds  for  a  time,  we 
returned  to  the  serious  work  of  finishing  the  equip- 
ment of  our  men  for  the  terrible  work  before  them, 
although  the  most  experienced  among  us  scarcely  re- 
alized how  terrible  it  was  to  be,  nor  the  privations 
they  would  be  called  upon  to  endure  in  the  field,  or 
those  we  would  have  to  bear  at  home.  The  school- 
girls were  wild;  no  use  was  it  to  mention  books  to 
them;  it  was  their  plain  duty  to  sew  for  the  soldiers, 
and  sew  they  did,  though  I  much  fear  that  some  of 
the  work  might  have  been  criticised  by  particular 
persons.  There  were  dress  parade  suits  and  fatigue 
suits  to  be  made,  as  well  as  underclothing  suitable 
to  camp  life— tents,  haversacks,  canteens  to  be  cov- 
ered, in  fact  every  part  of  the  outfit  except  the  knap- 
sacks, was  made  by  the  voluntary  labor  of  the  wo- 


20  War  Days  in  Fayetteville 

men.  They  assembled  in  bees  from  house  to  house, 
where  the  most  experienced  ladies  could  oversee  the 
difficult  parts  of  the  work,  such  as  the  making  of 
coats  which  could  not  be  trusted  to  novices.  And 
when  our  first  two  companies  left  us,  we  felt  that 
they  were  as  well  provided  for  as  soldiers  could  ex- 
pect to  be,  and  us  girls  were  proud  to  feel  that  we 
had  done  our  part  as  well  as  school-girls  could  be  ex- 
pected to. 

THE  REAL  WAR  BEGINS. 

These  companies  represented  in  the  main  our  best 
educated  and  well-to-do  classes.  They  were  among 
the  first  to  arrive  in  Raleigh  and  were  both  put  into 
the  1st  North  Carolina  Regiment.  It  was  fortunate 
for  Fayetteville  that  this  regiment  was  sworn  in  for 
six  months  only,  as  our  companies  returned  home  at 
the  end  of  that  time,  and  the  men  were  scattered 
among  other  regiments  mostly  as  officers.  Though 
the  town  lost  heavily  of  her  sons  during  the  war,  the 
loss  was  probably  less  than  it  would  have  been  if  so 
large  a  number  had  remained  in  a  single  regiment 
throughout  the  war. 

But  woman's  work  was  by  no  means  done  when 
these  two  companies  left  us.  Other  companies  were 
formed  more  slowly,  and  there  was  plenty  of  work 
to  be  done.  We  became  plainer  in  our  notions,  how- 
over,  as  materials  began  to  be  less  plenty,  and  were 
content  to  send  the  others  off  without  feathers  in 
their  hats  or  parade  suits,  and  requisitions  had  to  be 
made  on  our  family  supplies  of  blankets  and  carpets 
to  supply  this  needful  article,  as  well  as  to  respond 
to  calls  made  on  the  part  of  destitute  companies 
abroad;  and  many  families  in  moderate  circum- 
stances gave  blankets  they  could  have  used  at  home 
without  having  too  many.  I  never  nestled  under 
my  blankets  of  a  cold  or  rainy  winter  night  but  my 
last  thought  was  for  our  soldiers  under  the  blue 


Taking  of  the  Jlrsenal  21 

star-spangled  roof  of  heaven,  or  the  dark  and  pitiless 
rain  clouds.  All  through  the  terrible  struggle  the 
women  of  Fayetteville  were  ever  ready  to  respond 
to  any  call  on  their  time  or  labor,  or  means,  (so  far 
as  they  continued  to  have  any,)  ever  faithful  to  the 
cause  which  they  had  at  heart  with  all  the  earnest- 
ness of  their  Scotch  blood. 

Although  not  subject  to  the  horrors  of  actual  bat- 
tle, many  of  our  people  endured  privations  never  be- 
fore dreamed  of.  Those  called  "the  poor"  got  along 
as  well  as  ever  probably,  as  they  did  not  scruple  to  ask 
for  help;  but  the  suffering  was  among  those  families 
who  were  accustomed  to  every  comfort,  and  were 
above  asking  or  even  receiving  assistance  from  oth- 
ers, and  many  families  of  this  class  found  great  dif- 
ficulty in  procuring  the  bare  necessaries  of  life.  I 
have  known  cases  in  which  corn  bread  formed  the 
sole  bill  of  fare  at  meals  in  families  accustomed  to 
comfort  and  even  luxury.  Imitation  coffee  often  be- 
come a  luxury  out  of  reach  of  many  unless  taken 
without  sugar  or  cream,  especially  during  the  last 
two  years  of  the  war.  If  a  family  could  afford  a 
slice  of  meat  around  for  dinner,  and  home-made  mo- 
lasses at  other  meals,  they  considered  themselves 
fortunate,  and  pitied  the  poor.  The  town  was  never 
a  very  good  market  for  fresh  meats,  butter,  etc., 
but  when  it  became  crowded  with  refugees  from 
down  the  river  and  the  increase  attendant  on  the 
many  new  operatives  and  officials  employed  in  the 
new  and  comparatively  extensive  works  carried  on  at 
the  Arsenal,  these  articles  became  luxuries  reserved 
for  those  whose  wealth  still  continued  available,  and 
they  were  by  no  means  a  large  class.  New  clothes 
couldn't  be  thought  of  by  the  majority. 

What  wonderful  triumphs  of  genius  were  then 
achieved  by  the  ladies  who  had  been  taught  good 
use  of  their  needles,  in  the  "reconstruction"  of  old 
dresses,  in  "making  auld  claise  look  as  maist  as 


22  War  T>ays  in  Fayetleville 

weels'  the  new."  How  garrets  were  ransacked  for 
old  discarded  garments,  that  were  brought  out  and 
surprised  by  having  a  fresh  lease  of  life  given  them 
in  new  characters.  What  nice  bonnets  were  made 
of  old  black  silk  dress  bodies,  trimmed  with  goose 
feathers,  and  lined  with  red  or  blue  satin  from  the 
lining  of  old  coat  sleeves,  hats  constructed  of  old  dis- 
carded ones  of  feathers,  trimmed  with  old  coat  col- 
lars and  cock's  plumes  cut  off  the  rooster  in  the  yard. 
Space  fails  me  to  tell  of  all  the  shifts  that  were  made 
— not  that  we  thought  so  much  of  our  personal  ap- 
pearance as  in  happier  times,  but  women  will  always 
try  to  "look  decent"  at  least,  and  young  girls  will  not 
often  be  found  too  sad  to  refuse  to  consider  the  set 
of  a  dress  or  the  becommingness  of  a  hat.  I  wish 
our  women  to-day  would  still  remember  the  lessons 
of  those  days,  and  practice  a  part,  at  least,  of  the  en- 
forced plainness  of  "war  times."  We  should  then 
hear  less  of  mortgages  and  liens,  and  the  miseries  of 
the  credit  system.  But  through  all  the  privations, 
real  or  relative,  not  one  of  us  ever  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  giving  up.  To  the  bitter  end  we  be- 
lieved firmly  in  the  justice  and  final  success  of  the 
cause,  and  even  after  the  devastations  of  Sherman's 
army  we  did  not  lose  faith,  but  thought  "some  way" 
would  yet  be  found  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  the 
surrender  of  Lee  came  upon  us  like  a  thunder  clap. 

woman's  faith  and  hope 

One  pleasant  evening  in  April,  1865,  we  heard 
that  a  battalion  of  cavalry  was  to  pass  up  the  road, 
and  "the  girls"  in  our  neighborhood  hastened  out  to 
the  main  road  with  flowers  and  encouraging  smiles. 
We  had  little  else  to  bestow,  for  the  rations  of  our 
people  had  been  cut  down  so  low  by  Sherman's  re- 
quisitions upon  our  smoke-houses  and  pantries  that 
the  bacon  had  ceased  to  go  round  the  family.  It 
was  harder  still  to  make  ends  meet— in  many  families 


Taking  of  the  Arsenal  23 

they  didn't  quite  meet.  At  home  we  always  had 
enough,  though  it  might  be  plain,  but  I  can't  say  as 
much  for  all  our  neighbors.  But  our  hearts  were  as 
stout  as  ever;  that  the  war  was  over  had  not  come 
into  our  heads.  As  we  stood  dispensing  our  flowers 
or  passing  a  word  with  a  lingering  soldier,  or  having 
a  little  chat  with  an  officer,  somebody  came  up 
and  told  us  that  news  had  come  that  Lee  had  sur- 
rendered. We  refused  to  believe  such  a  story.  "Lee 
surrendered!"  "Lee  would  never  surrender."  Wo- 
men are  so  unreasonable,  they  can't  see  what  they 
don't  want  to  see  really. 

We  begged  the  soldiers  not  to  give  up.  It  could 
not  be  possible  that  the  South  was  really  subdued. 
We  wept  and  wrung  our  hands.  "March  on  to  vic- 
tory or  death!"  was  our  cry.  In  the  midst  of  our  ex- 
citement we  saw  a  group  of  horsemen  coming  down 
the  road  toward  town.  We  ran  to  meet  them,  hop- 
ing for  news,  and  our  hearts  fell  to  the  lowest  place 
when  we  saw  Gen.  Holmes,  Col.  Peter  Mallett  and 
some  other  officers  riding  slowly  along  towards  home. 
What  upon  earth  was  these  gentlemen  doing  here! 
Gen.  Holmes  had  married  in  Fayetteville  and  we  had 
all  known  him  from  our  earliest  years. 

"Oh,  General,"  we  cried,  "can  it  be  that  Lee  has 
surrendered?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  general  from  a  full  heart,  his 
voice  trembling  with  emotion.  "Yes,  all  is  over.  The 
South  is  overcome.  Fayetteville  has  no  cause  to 
blame  herself.  She  has  done  her  whole  duty,  and  if 
all  neople  everywhere  had  done  as  well,  it  might 
have  been  different." 

As  they  passed  on  we  returned  home.  We  had  no 
more  to  talk  about  that  evening.  The  war  had  end- 
ed as  we  had  never  believed  possible;  all  the  days  of 
agonizing  suspense;  our  wives,  mothers,  sisters,  and 
sweethearts,  had  endured,  while  their  loved  ones 
were  hourly  exposed  to  deadly  danger,  the  nights  of 
sleepless  anxiety,  wishing  yet  dreading  for  the  morn- 


24  War  Days  in  Fayetteville. 

ing— -all  the  privations,  self-denials,  losses,  had  been 
in  vain.  All  the  precious  lives  had  been  sacrificed, 
and  for  what?  Defeat  at  last.  Desolation  met  our 
eyes  all  around.  Want  was  lurking  among  us.  The 
earth  seemed  turned  upside  down,  and  chaos  seemed 
to  reign. 

But  not  long  did  Fayetteville  lie  weeping  in  the 
dust.  'Twas  not  in  her  nature.  She  gathered  her- 
self up  and  went  to  work  again.  She  bought  from 
the  United  States  the  millions  of  brick  left  in  the 
ruined  walls  of  the  Arsenal  with  which  to  repair  her 
waste  places,  and  she  hath  struggled  on  all  these 
years  with  adverse  circumstances.  But  to-day  all  is 
about  to  be  changed.  She  is  to  have  very  soon  a 
railroad  completed  to  connect  her  with  the  high-roads 
of  the  nation  once  more.  Modern  progress  has  laid 
its  coal  of  fire  upon  her  back,  and  before  many  years 
old-fashioned  Fayetteville  will  be  no  more.  It  will 
be  simply  a  common-place,  modern,  railway  town. 
The  young  ladies  will  no  longer  be  behind  in  the 
fashions,  but  daughters  of  parents  in  moderate  cir- 
cumstances will  be  seen  fashionably  attired  in  satin 
bought  with  money  that  should  have  been  spent  in 
new  sheets  and  towels  for  family  use.  Elegant  parl- 
ors will  be  seen  in  houses  where  the  doors  are  left 
carefully  closed  on  bare  bedrooms.  The  lady  who 
used  to  say  (I  heard  her^  that  she  j)ref  erred  her 
friends  should  know  her  "old  last  Winter's  bonnet 
had  been  brought  out  again,"  will  be  superseded  by 
the  lady  who  cannot  possibly  wear  a  dress  two  seas- 
sons,  therefore  has  no  means  to  exercise  the  com- 
fortable, if  not  showy  nor  lavish,  hospitality  which 
was  gracefully  exercised  by  the  old  bonnet  and  care- 
fully preserved  black  silk.  The  old  stage  coach  in 
which  every  child  of  old  Fayettevijle  has  doubtless 
been  turned  over  in  the  dead  of  night,  (I  have  en- 
joyed that  privilege)  will  be  forgotten  and  her  people 
will  be  mashed  up  on  fast  mail  trains. 


Taking  of  the  Arsenal  25 

FAYETTEVILLE'S  LOSSES  BY  THE  WAR. 

I  have  no  means  at  hand  for  ascertaining  the  ex- 
act loss  of  life  Fayetteville  sustained  in  her  sons  by 
the  war.  As  an  illustration  it  may  be  interesting  to 
give  the  statistics  of  one  family.  Our  family  connec- 
tion, which  was  large,  sent  eleven  men  to  the  war, 
five  of  whom  were  married  and,  with  one  exception, 
had  young  families.  We  had  but  three  men  left  at 
home  amenable  to  military  duty.  These  were  all 
men  with  large  families  depending  on  their  earnings 
for  support.  None  of  them  made  a  cent  by  the  war, 
only  managing  to  get  a  living  through  it.  It  was 
perhaps  a  little  remarkable  that  only  three  out  of  the 
whole  number  of  married  men  in  the  connection  had 
fathers-in-law  living,  and  one  of  these  didn't  count. 
These  three  were  volunteers.  One  died  of  a  wound 
received  at  Seven  Pines,  and  lies  buried  in  a  pretty 
village  churchyard,  and  his  widow  sits  in  the  village 
church  with  her  sweet  sad  face  still  shaded  by  the 
widow's  veil.  Her  resolute  spirit  refused  to  allow 
her  to  remain  entirely  dependent  on  her  aged  father 
with  her  four  little  children,  and  she  taught  school 
and  sewed  day  and  night  in  the  endeavor  to  ease 
the  burdens  of  his  declining  years.  Her  children  are 
all  grown  now  and  settled  in  life.  She  is  not  old  yet, 
but  her  eyesight  is  nearly  gone,  and  in  the  enforced 
idleness  of  many  of  her  hours  doubtless  the  bitter- 
ness of  that  parting  with  her  young  and  talented 
husband  is  often  lived  over  again.  When  will  the 
end  of  these  things  be?  Five  in  all  of  our  boys 
died  a  soldier's  death.  Two  of  them  were  the  only 
children  of  their  mother,  and  she  a  widow.  One 
of  the  survivors  limps  to-day  from  a  wound  received 
in  battle. 

During  the  war  there  was  not  a  beau  left  in  Fay- 
etteville, and  all  the  assistants  the  girls  had  to  de- 
pend upon  when  we  had  tableaux,  concerts,  charades, 
&c,  to  raise  money  for  the  hospitals,  were  the  few 


26  War  'Days  in  Fa^etteville 

officials  at  the  Arsenal  and  the  hospital  and  those  of 
our  soldiers  who  happened  to  be  at  home  convales- 
cent on  sick  leave.  The  "bomb  proof"  young  gen- 
tlemen were  all  strangers  in  Fayetteville,  if  my 
memory  does  not  fail  me,  except  two,  and  they  were 
among  the  six  months'  men,  I  think,  who  had  con- 
tracted ill-health  in  the  Yorktown  Peninsula.  But 
these  strangers  acquitted  themselves  handsomely  of 
the  onerous  duties  required  of  them  as  gallants  to  a 
whole  town  full  of  bereaved  girls.  They  were  very 
kind  and  obliging,  ever  ready  to  give  us  the  use  of 
their  spare  time  and  their  talents  in  all  our  undertak- 
ings, to  serve  as  best  men  at  the  rather  mournful 
weddings,  to  bear  our  dead  to  the  graves.  We  would 
have  been  badly  off  without  them  perhaps,  and  we 
wish  to  give  them  due  thanks. 

A  LAST  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  OLD  TOWN 

In  these  lines  I  have  tried  to  give  some  account 
of  what  the  war  was  to  a  somewhat  isolated  but  not 
inactive  community,  and  one  which  I  feared  would 
otherwise  be  neglected  in  this  series.  What  I  have 
said  of  her  women  should  not  be  called  egotistical  as 
I  was  too  young  to  take  a  woman's  part  in  that  troub- 
lous time.  I  only  write  what  I  remember  of  my  sis- 
ter townswomen  as  I  saw  them. 

I  realize  that  not  yet  have  the  anxieties  and  cares 
occasioned  by  the  war  ceased  to  sadden  the  hearts 
and  vex  the  lives  of  Southern  women.  And  not  till 
the  last  of  us  who  remember  vividly  that  mighty 
struggle  is  laid  to  rest  will  the  war  be  thought  of 
simply  as  a  matter  of  history,  and  the  bitterness  be 
past.  Not  till  all  our  disappointed  hopes  and  al- 
tered lives,  our  constitutions  battered  by  the  effort 
to  adapt  ourselves  to  a  state  of  society  which  our  ed- 
ucation and  early  training  had  not  fitted  us  to  en- 
counter, not  till  all  are  laid  under  the  sod  will  the 
bloody  shirt  be  folded  away  forever  and  real  peace 


Taking  of  the  jlrsenal. 


27 


be  given  to  the  land.  But  though  our  generation 
may  not  realize  it,  I  believe  we  can  see  the  dawning 
of  a  new  day,  and  our  children  will  be  better  and 
nobler  men  and  women  for  all  we  have  gone  through, 
and  will  be  able  to  understand  that  the  war  was  not 


in  vain. 


RETURN  OF  THE  BETHEL  HEROES. 


BY  MISS  ALICE  CAMPBELL. 


, 


IN  SEARCHING  through  the  storehouse  of  mem- 
ory, I  find  a  few  relics  which  may  prove  a  pastime 

to  those  who  care  to  puruse  them.  I  scarcely 
know  where  to  begin,  as  so  many  incidents  crowd  in 
upon  me. 

In  the  early  part  of  '61  when  the  war  clouds  were 
hanging  thick  and  dark  about  us,  and  the  clarion 
notes  "To  Arms !  To  Arms!"  were  sounding  through- 
out our  dear  Southland,  every  available  man  felt  it 
his  duty  to  protect  his  home  and  fireside,  and  made 
ready  to  leave  business  and  loved  ones,  and  cast  his 
fortunes  for  weal  or  for  woe,  to  fight  for  liberty  and 
sacred  honor.  The  women  were  brave  and  inde- 
fatigable in  their  efforts  to  do  all  that  was  possible 
to  help  in  the  cause  that  was  so  dear  to  their  hearts. 
Mothers  gave  their  sons,  wives  their  husbands,  sis- 
ters their  dearly  loved  brothers,  to  say  nothing  of 
friends  innumerable.  Our  Military  Companies,  the 
honored  old  "Fayetteville  Independent  Light  In- 
fantry" with  their  motto  emblazoned  on  their  flag, 
"He  that  hath  no  stomach  to  this  fight  let  him  de- 
part," with  ranks  full  of  tried  and  true  men,  and  the 
"LaFayette  Light  Infantry"  in  all  their  beautiful 
strength  were  busy  getting  all  things  in  readiness  to 
leave  at  a  moment's  notice,  at  the  call  of  the  Gov- 
ernor. The  women,  old  and  young,  untrimmed  their 
hats  to  use  the  black  plumes  to  trim  the  soldiers' 
hats,  which  was  a  soft,  broad-brimmed  black  hat, 
with  a  gilt  band  and  two  black  plumes.  Our  compa- 
nies volunteered  for  six  months,  expecting  the  war 
would  close  by  that  time.    They  were  both  engaged 


Return  of  the  Bethel  Heroes  29 

at  the  first  battle  of  Bethel  on  June  10,  '61,  and  in 
many  others  from  that  time  until  their  return  home 
in  November,  their  enlistment  expiring  at  that  time. 
On  their  return  home  the  ladies  had  been  busy  meet- 
ing and  making  long  wreaths,  designs,  and  covering 
hoops  of  our  beautiful  pine,  with  cedar  and  holly  to 
decorate  the  Old  Market  House.  The  wreaths  were 
festooned  from  the  corner  of  the  Market,  to  stores 
across  the  square,  and  the  entire  front  on  Person 
street  was  made  beautiful  with  lovely  decorations. 
A  banner  was  placed  across  the  entire  front,  with 
this  inscription:  "Welcome  Heroes  of  Bethel"  in  jets 
of  gas.  We  were  more  than  two  weeks,  working  day 
and  night,  getting  everything  in  order.  The  Mili- 
tary Companies  arrived  by  boat,  just  about  nightfall. 
They  found  almost  the  entire  population  at  the  river- 
bank,  anxiously  waiting  to  receive  them.  They 
marched  up  from  the  river  to  the  Old  Market,  where 
they  had  a  grand  ovation,  speeches,  music,  etc.,  etc. 
—Oh !  the  grand  and  happy  hearts,  and  the  tears  of 
joy,  that  were  shed  over  our  dear  Boys  in  Grey,  who 
had  returned  in  safety  to  their  loved  ones.  This  was 
of  short  duration,  however,  for  every  one  of  them 
went  into  the  service  again,  as  soon  as  arrangements 
could  be  made,  most  of  them  going  into  the  Cavalry, 
Capt.  James  McNeill  and  Capt.  James  Strange  rais- 
ing the  companies,  quite  a  number  of  them  receiv- 
ing commissions  as  officers  in  other  companies  that 
were  forming:  Plow  Boys,  Scotch  Tigers,  Starr's 
Battery,  etc.  Then  it  was  that  the  struggle  com- 
menced in  earnest.  We  learned  to  spin,  to  weave, 
and  knit.  Thousands  of  pairs  of  socks  and  gloves 
were  sent  from  here  to  the  needy  soldiers  in  the 
field.  We  cut  up  our  carpets  to  make  blankets  for 
them;  we  wore  homespun  dresses  and  leather  home- 
made shoes.  I  had  a  calico  dress  for  State  occasions, 
for  which  I  paid  ten  dollars  a  yard,  and  shoes  that 
cost  one  hundred  dollars  a  pair.  We  paid  ten  dollars 
a  pound  for  sugar,  the  same  for  tea,  and  later  it 


30  War  Days  in  Fayelteville 

could  not  be  bought  for  any  price.  As  for  coffee  it 
was  out  of  the  question.  We  had  various  substi- 
tutes, such  as  parched  rye,  also  okra  seed.  These 
things  seem  preposterous,  but  they  are  nevertheless 
true.  The  women  were  busy  from  early  morn'  till 
dewy  eve,  writing  letters  to  the  soldier  boys— trying 
to  supply  their  needs,  preparing  boxes  of  eatables  of 
every  kind  for  them,  and  striving  to  cheer  and  en- 
courage them  in  their  arduous  work.  There  were 
many  wives  whose  husbands  had  gone  to  dare  and 
to  die,  who  could  not  read  or  write,  and  that  was 
our  duty  and  pleasure  to  write  their  letters  for  them, 
also  to  read  those  that  were  received,  and  the  little 
love  messages  and  bits  of  poetry  that  was  written  in 
them  would  cause  a  smile  many  times,  such  as 
"Roses  red,  and  violets  blue,  Pinks  are  pretty  and  so 
are  you,"  and  such  like. 

Our  lives  were  not  all  spent  in  work  and  gloomy 
forebodings,  for  we  had  many  pleasures,— "The  bit- 
ter with  the  sweet,"  for  frequently  our  boys  would 
be  sent  home  on  various  business  errands,  detached 
for  fresh  horses,  or  to  regain  their  health,  after  se- 
vere sickness.  They  were  always  treated  like  heroes. 
We  gave  them  all  the  pleasure  and  entertainment 
possible,  which  was  most  heartily  appreciated.  Many 
times  were  we  called  upon  to  mourn  the  loss  of  one 
of  our  dear  friends,  who  had  fallen  with  his  face  to 
the  foe,  causing  a  vacant  chair  in  the  home  circle — 
as  the  years  passed  by  so  slowly  and  our  forces  were 
being  diminished  almost  daily,  our  faith  still  firm 
that  victory  would  at  last  be  ours,  nor  did  we  cease 
to  believe  this,  even  when  the  enemy  invaded  our 
quiet  peaceful  homes.— Yes  on  the  11th  of  March, 
Sherman,  with  his  hordes  of  depraved  and  lawless 
men,  came  upon  us  like  swarms  of  bees,  bringing 
sorrow  and  desolation  in  their  pathway.  I  can  never 
forget  the  terrible  scene  on  that  memorable  morn- 
ing. For  days  we  had  been  expecting  them,  and  our 
loved  boys  in  grey  had  been  passing  through  in 


Return  of  the  {Bethel  Heroes  31 

squads,  looking  ragged  and  hungry,  but  yet  so 
brave  and  grand.  We  gave  them  food  and  clothing, 
especially  shoes  and  socks,  for  many  of  them  were 
bare-footed.  The  enemy  seemed  to  be  pouring  in 
by  every  road  that  led  to  our  doomed  little  town. 
Our  Cavalry  were  contending  every  step,  fireing  and 
falling  back,  covering  the  retreat  of  our  gallant  lit- 
tle band,  Hardee's  forces,  with  General  Wade  Hamp- 
ton, Butler,  and  others—  the  scene  in  our  town  baf- 
fled description,  all  was  consternation  and  dismay. 
In  less  time  than  I  can  write  this,  Sherman's  army 
was  in  possession  of  our  once  peaceful,  quiet  homes. 
Every  yard  and  every  house  was  teeming  with  the 
bummers,  who  went  into  our  homes — no  place  was 
sacred;  they  even  went  into  our  trunks  and  bureau 
drawers,  stealing  everything  they  could  find;  our  en- 
tire premises  were  ransacked  and  plundered,  so  there 
was  nothing  left  for  us  to  eat,  but  perhaps  a  little 
meal  and  peas.  Chickens,  and  in  fact  all  poultry  was 
shot  down  and  taken  off  with  all  else.  We  all  knew 
our  silver,  jewelry  and  all  valuables  would  fall  into 
their  hands,  so  many  women  hid  them  in  such  places 
as  they  thought  would  never  be  found,  but  alas  for 
their  miscalculation!  One  of  my  friends  had  a  hen 
setting,  and  she  took  her  watch  and  other  valued 
jewels  and  hid  them  in  the  nest,  under  the  hen — 
they  did  not  remain  long  concealed,  for  they  soon 
found  them  and  enjoyed  the  joke. 

They  went  into  homes  that  were  beautiful,  rolled 
elegant  pianos  into  the  yard  with  valuable  furniture, 
china,  cut  glass,  and  everything  that  was  dear  to  the 
heart,  even  old  family  portraits,  and  chopped  them 
up  with  axes — rolled  barrels  of  flour  and  molasses 
into  the  parlors,  and  poured  out  their  contents  on 
beautiful  velvet  carpets,  in  many  cases  set  fire  to 
lovely  homes  and  burned  them  to  the  ground,  and 
even  took  some  of  our  old  citizens  and  hanged  them 
until  life  was  nearly  extinct,  to  force  them  to  tell 
where  their  money  was  hidden;  when  alas!  they  had 


32  War  T>ays  in  Fayetteville 

none  to  hide.  They  burned  our  factories,  and  we 
had  a  number  of  them,  also  many  large  warehouses, 
rilled  with  homespun,  and  dwellings,  banks,  stores 
and  other  buildings,  so  that  the  nights  were  made 
hideous  with  dense  smoke  and  firelight  in  every  di- 
rection. The  crowning  point  to  this  terrible  night- 
mare of  destruction  was  the  burning  and  battering 
down  of  our  beautiful  and  grandly  magnificent 
Arsenal,  which  was  our  pride,  and  the  showplace  of 
our  town. 

On  our  vacant  lot  behind  our  home  on  Dick  street, 
were  a  number  of  Confederate  prisoners  who  had 
been  captured  by  Sherman's  army,  and  placed  there 
under  guard.  They  numbered  about  one  hundred, 
I  think.  They  were  hatless  and  shoeless  and  ragged. 
I  asked  Col.  A.  H.  Hickenlooper,  the  officer  who  had 
quarters  at  our  house,  if  I  might  go  down  to  see 
them.  He  most  kindly  consented,  and  said  he  would 
go  with  me  for  protection.  So  myself  and  sister, 
with  a  few  neighbors  and  friends,  went  down.  As  I 
was  President  of  our  Knitting  Society  at  the  time, 
and  we  had  a  large  box  of  socks  and  gloves  on  hand, 
which  we  were  just  ready  to  send  away,  we  took  them 
with  us;  also  all  the  hats  and  caps  we  could  find,  and 
distributed  them  to  the  prisoners.  Notwithstanding 
our  Yankee  officer,  with  us  as  a  protector,  we  urged 
our  dear  boys  to  be  brave,  and  fight  on,  that  we 
would  win  at  last.  Oh!  what  a  delusion,  as  it  proved. 
They  took  all  of  the  horses  in  town  that  they  could 
not  take  away  with  them  and  put  them  in  an  en- 
closure on  Cool  Spring  street,  and  shot  them;  so  they 
left  hundreds  of  dead  horses  lying  there,  there  being 
no  way  to  get  rid  of  them.  They  were  burned,  and 
you  may  try  to  imagine  the  odor,  if  you  can. 

They  gave  us  their  agreeable  company  from  the 
11th  to  the  14th,  when  they  departed,  terror  stricken, 
lest  Wheeler's  Cavalry  should  fall  upon  them.  After 
they  left,  our  hospitals,  which  had  not  been  very 


Return  of  the  $ethel  Heroes  33 

full,  were  filled  to  overflowing.  They  came  in  with 
various  diseases,  and  wounds  innumerable.  Typhoid 
fever  seemed  to  prevail.  We  had  fine  physicians  in 
charge,  and  every  lady  in  town,  who  could,  gave  up 
her  time  to  nurse  and  care  for  the  dear  brave  boys. 
We  gave  them  medicine,  prepared  their  food,  and 
many  times  fed  them.  We  took  them  flowers  and 
wrote  letters  to  their  dear  ones,  who  were  far  away 
from  them,  read  to  them,  and  did  everything  possible 
to  cheer  and  help  them.  Oh !  how  sad  it  was  to  see 
them  suffer,  and  pass  away  so  far  from  those  they 
loved — and  during  their  illness,  how  they  watched 
and  waited  day  after  day,  for  letters  from  home  that 
never  came.  I  knew  and  talked  with  most  of  those 
who  are  buried  in  the  old  cemetery,  near  the  Monu- 
ment. I  can  see  their  sad  faces  whenever  I  think  of 
them,  some  of  them  so  young — mere  boys— some 
mature  men.  Many  times  we  were  present  when 
God  took  the  poor  weary  soul  to  Paradise.  There 
was  one  inmate  there  who  taught  us  the  sacredness 
of  a  promise.  He  was  brought  in  with  typhoid 
fever.  He  had  passed  the  crisis,  and  needed  a  stim- 
ulant. The  doctor  in  charge  had  prescribed  a  little 
whisky.  This  he  declined  to  take,  as  he  had  prom- 
ised his  father,  on  leaving  home,  he  would  never 
taste  a  drop  of  liquor  while  in  the  army,  and  no  per- 
suasion from  doctor  or  nurses  could  make  that  noble, 
brave  fellow  break  his  promise.  Even  though  the 
doctor  made  me  tell  him  he  would  certainly  die,  if  he 
did  not  take  the  stimulant,  he  said:  "Then  I  must 
die,  for  I  cannot  break  my  promise."  So  God  took 
him  to  Paradise,  to  rest  from  his  labors,  and  receive 
his  reward.  Years  afterward,  a  near  relative  traced 
him  to  Fayetteville,  and  he  was  shown  the  place 
where  loving  hands  had  laid  him,  in  a  sweet  quiet 
resting  place,  near  the  beautiful  Cross  Creek,  where 
the  plaintive  moan  of  the  dove  is  heard,  and  the  rip- 
pling waters  sing  a  sweet,  sad  requim  to  his  soul. 


34 


War  Days  in  Fayetteville. 


There  are  many  others  who  passed  over  the  river  to 
rest  in  the  shade.  They  died  without  a  kindred  near 
them,  but  all  that  loving  hands  could  do  for  them, 
was  gladly  and  willingly  done.  There,  57  brave 
heroes,  who  sacrificed  their  lives  for  the  cause,  lie 
side  by  side,  near  the  Monument,  in  the  old  cemetery, 
of  which  we  are  so  proud,  it  being  erected  by  the 
noble  women  of  our  town  in  the  year  1867,  the  sec- 
ond one  raised  to  their  memory  in  the  South,  and  the 
first  one  in  North  Carolina,  and  on  the  10th  of  May, 
of  each  year  since,  we  assemble  to  weave  our  Laurel 
Chaplets,  to  decorate  the  graves  of  our  beloved 
heroes,  the  wearers  of  the  Grey,  and  place  over  their 
green  mounds  the  flag  they  loved  so  well,  but  alas ! 
'tis  furled, — 


"Furl  it,  for  the  hands  that  grasped  it, 

And  the  hearts  that  fondly  clasped  it, 
Cold  and  dead,  are  lying  low." 


INCIDENTS  OF  HOSPITAL  LIFE. 


BY  MRS.  ANNE  K.  KYLE. 

WHEN  North  Carolina  seceded  from  the  Union 
and  her  Governor  (Ellis)  called  for  Volun- 
teers, our  two  Military  Companies,  "The  Fay- 
etteville  Independent  Light  Infantry,"  and  the  "La- 
Fayette  Light  Infantry,"  at  once  offered  their  ser- 
vices. 

On  the  day  the  companies  marched  away  our  work 
commenced.  We  immediately  organized  our  Sol- 
diers' Aid  Association,  determining,  with  the  help  of 
God,  that  no  soldier's  family  should  suffer.  Our  first 
act  was  to  write  to  Raleigh,  N.  C,  and  ask  for  a  con- 
tract to  make  drawers  and  shirts.  The  material  was 
furnished  us  and  we  cut  the  garments,  giving  them 
to  the  soldiers'  wives  to  make. 

The  Independent  and  LaFayette  companies  were 
sent  to  Virginia  and  took  part  in  the  memorable  bat- 
tle of  Bethel,  which  occurred  June  10th,  1861.  Of 
course  our  town  was  filled  with  mourning  and 
lamentations  when  the  news  of  the  battle  reached 
us,  for  so  many  from  our  midst  were  there  that  we 
could  not  help  thinking  that  a  part  of  them  at  least 
had  fallen,  Our  mourning  was  soon  turned  into  joy, 
however,  as  we  heard  that  we  had  not  lost  a  single 
man  from  either  of  our  companies. 

In  a  few  days  I  left  with  my  mother  for  our  sum- 
mer home  in  Wytheville.  Va.,  where  I  found  plenty 
of  work  to  do,  as  Floyd's  Brigade  was  quartered 
near  the  town.  The  measles,  one  of  the  evils  of 
camp  life,  broke  out.  Mrs.  Alex.  Stuart,  a  sister-in- 
law  of  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  and  as  noble  a  woman  as  he 
was  a  great  man,  and  myself  rented  rooms  in  the  old 


36  War  Days  in  Fayetteoille 

Haller  House,  and  sent  word  to  Gen.  Floyd  that  we 
were  ready  to  take  charge  of  the  sick.  We  had 
thirty-two  cases  of  measles  from  the  Patrick  com- 
pany at  one  time.  After  his  command  left,  the 
building  was  turned  into  a  Wayside  Hospital  and 
taken  charge  of  by  the  ladies  of  the  town.  As  it 
was  right  on  the  railroad,  troops  were  constantly 
passing,  and  it  was  a  haven  of  rest  to  many  a  poor, 
weary  soldier.  Whenever  we  received  telegrams 
saying  that  troops  were  coming,  we  were  always  at 
the  depot  with  lunch  for  them. 

I  returned  home  with  my  mother  the  1st  of  Octo- 
ber, and  then  it  was  that  our  work  for  the  soldiers 
commenced  in  earnest.  Every  carpet  and  curtain 
that  was  available  was  turned  into  blankets,  as  we 
felt  we  must  make  every  effort  to  have  everything 
in  readiness  for  the  winter  campaign.  We  worked 
then  with  willing  hands  and  light  hearts.  With  Lee 
and  Jackson  as  our  leaders  how  could  we  think  of 
anything  but  victory?  Everything  seemed  so  bright 
and  hopeful.  Our  six  months'  troops  returned  home 
in  November  flushed  with  hope  and  victory,  but 
they  were  soon  on  the  field  again.  My  husband  was 
first  lieutenant  in  a  Randolph  company. 

The  year  of  1862  our  hearts  were  continually 
cheered  with  good  news  from  the  army,  though  now 
and  then  some  brave  fellow  from  our  midst  would 
fall  in  battle.    In  1863,  however, 

THE  CLOUDS  COMMENCED  TO  GATHER, 

and  in  that  year  one  of  the  most  painful  and  harrow- 
ing deaths  that  I  ever  saw  occurred  at  the  Wayside 
Hospital  in  Wytheville.  A  Mr.  Gregory,  of  Georgia, 
having  started  home  sick  became  worse  and  stopped 
there  a  few  hours.  Soon  after  he  reached  the  hos- 
pital he  was  taken  with  lockjaw.  The  Rev.  F.  A. 
Goodwin,  of  St.  John's  Episcopal  Church,  my  pastor, 
watched  with  me  that  night.    The  unfortunate  sol- 


Incidents  of  Hospital  Life  37 

dier  was  perfectly  conscious,  and  that  made  it  so 
much  more  painful  for  us  to  see  his  great  agony* 
Every  now  and  then  Mr.  Goodwin  would  repeat  pas- 
sages from  the  Scriptures  and  pray  for  him  to  try  to 
comfort  him,  and  we  could  see  from  his  countenance 
that  he  understood  all  that  was  said.  Just  as  the 
morning  dawned  his  spirit  took  its  flight  and  he  was 
freed  from  all  pain  and  suffering.  We  closed  his 
eyes  and  folded  his  hands  with  an  earnest  prayer  to 
our  Heavenly  Father  that  his  sins  might  be  blotted 
out  and  that  he  might  be  received  in  the  army 
of  the  Good  Shepherd.  We  laid  him  to  rest  in 
the  cemetery  in  that  place  and  I  wrote  to  his  mother, 
giving  her  an  account  of  his  last  moments.  She 
seemed  very  grateful  that  loving  hands  performed 
the  last  offices  for  him. 

On  the  17th  of  July  news  was  received  that  a 
raiding  party  was  making  its  way  towards  Wythe- 
ville  by  what  is  called  the  Big  Sandy;  Road,  led  by 
Lieut. -Col.  Powell.  That  same  evening  my  sister's 
little  boy  was  so  ill  that  she  had  just  had  him  bap- 
tized. Mr.  Goodwin  had  not  left  the  house  more 
than  half  an  hour  when  one  of  the  servants  ran  in 
and  said  the  Yankees  were  coming  down  the  hill.  I 
had  sprained  my  ankle  the  day  before  amd  was  not 
able  to  leave  my  room.  My  mother  was  in  the  room 
with  me,  and  my  sister  brought  all  of  her  children 
and  mine  in  the  room  with  us.  There  was  no  gentle- 
man in  the  house,  and  the  children  seemed  perfectly 
paralyzed  with  fear.  To  calm  them  my  sister  said: 
"Dear  children,  we  have  no  one  to  look  to  but  God; 
we  will  seek  his  protection  in  prayer."  Just  as  we 
arose  a  servant  came  in  crying,  "They  are  fireing  in- 
to the  other  room!" 

Just  then  a  ball  passed  through  the  room  which 
we  were  in.  Of  course  we  were  terror-stricken.  I 
seized  a  towel,  pinned  it  to  my  crutch  and  put  it  out 
the  window,  hoping  to  attract  their  attention.    In  a 


38  War  T)a}f3  in  Fayetteoille 

few  moments  steps  were  heard  on  the  stairs.  My 
sister  opened  the  door  and  said  she  would  like  to  see 
the  commanding  officer.  He  stepped  forward  and 
asked  what  she  wanted.  She  said:  "Sir,  I  ask  your 
protection.  You  see  my  helpless  condition — my 
mother  old  and  infirm,  my  child  in  a  dying  condi- 
tion and  my  sister  not  able  to  walk.  If  your  men 
are  hungry  they  will  find  everything  they  need  in 
the  dining  room,  or  you  can  take  all  you  wish  out  of 
the  house.  All  we  ask  is  a  shelter."  He  replied, 
with  an  oath,  "My  orders  are  to  level  this  house  to 
the  ground.  It  has  always  been  the  headquarters  of 
all  the  Rebels." 

By  that  time  the  house  was  filled  with  his  men. 
My  sister  turned  and  said:  "Children,  follow  me," 
and  she  went  down  the  stairs,  my  mother  following, 
and  her  little  ones  clinging  to  her.  My  nephew 
handed  me  my  crutches  and  just  as  I  reached  the 
door  a  man  snatched  them  from  me,  cursing  all  the 
time.  I  would  have  fallen,  but  was  caught  by  one 
of  the  servants  and  she  and  my  nephew  carried  me 
down  stairs.  As  we  got  to  the  hat  rack  my  mother 
reached  out  her  hand  to  get  her  bonnet  and  shawl. 
They  were  taken  from  her. 

In  that  short  space  of  time  they  had  broken  to 
pieces  the  elegant  parlor  furniture,  had  it  piled  in 
the  passage  as  high  as  the  wall,  and  it  was  burning. 
As  I  was  carried  by  they 

THREW  MY  CRUTCHES  ON  THE  FIRE. 

I  saw  them  in  the  parlor  breaking  the  mirrors  and 
glasses.  My  sister  calmly  walked  out  of  the  house, 
without  once  looking  back,  with  her  children  follow- 
ing. My  mother  had  my  little  boy  by  the  hand;  the 
others  were  clinging  to  the  nurse.  When  I  reached 
the  front  door  they  put  me  down  to  rest.  An  Irish 
soldier  picked  me  up  and  started  to  take  me  to  a 
house  across  the  street;  but  one  of  the  men  said  to 


Incidents  of  Hospital  Life  39 

him:  "We  are  going  to  burn  that  too,"  so  he  carried 
me  back  of  the  Methodist  church.  One  of  the  ser- 
vants returned  to  see  if  she  could  save  anything,  and 
she  said  they  made  a  fire  on  each  bed.  I  suppose 
they  thought  this  necessary,  as  the  house  was  per- 
fectly fire-proof.  They  permitted  her  to  take  out 
one  small  trunk  with  some  of  her  own  clothes  and  a 
few  of  the  children's  clothes. 

My  sister's  home  was  just  as  lovely  a  spot  as  was 
ever  seen.  It  was  elegantly  furnished  with  every- 
thing that  could  add  to  our  comfort  and  enjoyment. 
Fortunately  they  did  not  find  the  wine  cellar.  That 
was  in  the  basement  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  filled 
with  choice  liquors  and  wines. 

It  was  no  light  matter  to  be  turned  out  of  doors  at 
night  with  eight  little  children  and  not  a  change  of 
clothing.  Everything  in  the  world  that  we  had  was 
destroyed.  All  of  the  buildings  that  my  brother-in- 
law  used  as  quartermaster  were  destroyed,  and  a 
good  many  more  buildings.  There  is  no  telling  how 
much  damage  they  might  have  done,  but  the  whistle 
of  the  train  was  heard  and  some  one  told  them  we 
were  expecting  troops.  Lieut.  Powell  was  shot  at 
our  gate  jut  as  he  was  coming  out  by  a  young  boy. 

My  husband  was  wounded  on  the  6th  of  May, 
1864,  at  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  and  was  cap- 
tured the  20th.  Not  hearing  from  him  I  wrote  to 
my  cousin,  who  was  in  the  same  command.  He  said 
he  was  left  with  the  wounded  and  he  had  not  heard 
from  him  since.  After  he  was  captured  he  wrote 
me  a  letter,  giving  it  to  a  man  at  Port  Royal,  Va.,  to 
mail,  which  he  did  not  do  until  the  latter  part  of  July. 
Just  imagine  my  terrible  anxiety,  not  hearing  from 
him  in  all  that  time.  But  I  was  compelled  to  con- 
trol my  feelings  as  my  mother's  health  was  failing 
rapidly.  Indeed  she  was  never  well  from  the  time 
we  were  turned  out  of  our  house  in  the  night.  She 
pined  so  for  her  mountain  home  that  with  Tier  phy- 


40  War  Days  in  Fayetteville 

sician's  advice  I  started  with  her  and  my  four  chil- 
dren across  the  country  in  a  carriage.  She  died  just 
ten  days  after  we  reached  my  sister's.  Death,  just 
at  that  time,  seemed  a  happy  release  from  all  the 
cares  and  trouble  by  which  we  were  surrounded. 
My  grief  was  so  great  that  I  could  not  shed  a  tear 
and  it  did  not  give  away  until  the  latter  part  of  the 
month,  when  I  received  a  letter  from  my  husband. 
When  I  saw  his  hand-writing 

TEARS  CAME  TO  MY  RELIEF. 

In  October  I  started  home,  leaving  my  little 
daughter  with  my  sister,  who  expected  to  follow  me 
the  next  month.  I  took  my  little  ones  and  my  niece, 
who  was  a  young  lady,  with  me.  My  sister  was 
taken  ill  and  I  did  not  see  my  little  girl  until  the  fol- 
lowing July.  My  husband,  being  still  a  prisoner, 
was  carried  with  the  officers  to  Morris  Island,  and 
was  under  the  fire  there  for  forty-two  days,  and 
from  there  he  was  taken  to  Fort  Pulaski.  How  I 
lived  through  that  winter  I  cannot  tell.  After 
Christmas  I  applied  to  Dr.  Essington  for  a  situation 
as  assistant  matron  to  the  lower  hospital.  They 
were  bringing  the  wounded  from  Fort  Fisher,  Wil- 
mington and  other  points.  We  already  had  one  hos- 
pital and  were  establishing  another.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  doctor's  look  of  amazement  when  I  ap- 
plied for  the  situation.  My  reply  was:  "Doctor  I 
don't  want  any  pay,  but  I  must  have  constant  occu- 
pation or  I  will  loose  my  mind."  I  went  every  morn- 
ing at  nine  o'clock  and  staid  until  one,  and  I  always 
went  late  in  the  afternoon  to  see  that  the  wants  of 
the  patients  were  attended  to  during  the  night.  I 
always  dressed  all  the  wounds  every  morning,  and  I 
soon  found  that  my  grief  and  sorrow  were  forgotten 
in  administering  to  the  wants  of  the  sick. 

Such  patience  and  fortitude  I  have  never  seen. 
Not  one  murmur  did  I  ever  hear  escape  their  lips- 


Incidents  of  Hospital  Life  41 

My  Prayer  Book  was  my  constant  companion.  m  I 
carried  it  in  my  pocket,  and  many  a  poor  soldier 
have  I  soothed  and  comforted  with  holy  prayers. 
One  day  as  I  entered  the  hospital  I  noticed  a  new 
face.  I  made  my  way  to  him,  as  I  was  struck  by  his 
gray  hair,  and  said:  "You  are  too  old  to  be  here." 
He  smiled  and  his  answer  was  quite  a  rebuke:  "One 
never  gets  too  old  to  fight  for  one's  home  and  fire- 
side. I  had  no  sons,  so  I  came  myself."  He  proved 
to  be  a  Mr.  Johnson  of  Georgia.  I  made  him  my 
especial  care,  but  to  no  avail.  He  died  on  the  8th  of 
March. 

Now  I  will  speak  of  another  soldier  who  died  the 
same  day.  His  name  was  Sanford,  and  he  was  just 
in  the  prime  of  life.  It  was  really  pathetic  the  way 
lie  spoke  of  his  wife  and  home.  The  surgeon  prom 
ised  him  a  f  urlough,and  when  I  went  and  told  him  we 
had  written  for  his  wife  to  come  and  take  him  home 
I  shall  never  forget  his  expression  as  he  exclaimed: 
"am  I  to  see  my  wife  and  home."  Alas !  the  poor 
fellow  did  not  live  to  see  his  wife  again. 

On  the  10th  of  March  Hardee's  men  commenced 
to  pass  through  Fayetteville.  It  was  a  day  of  humil- 
iation and  prayer.  When  I  left  the  hospital  I  told 
them  they  would  have  to  do  without  me  next  day  as 
I  wanted  to  do  what  I  could  towards  feeding  some 
of  our  hungry^  soldiers,  as  we  had  nothing  but  bread 
and  meat  to  give  them.  My  uncle,  Dr.  Kyle,  went 
with  me,  and  we  stood  in  the  store  door  on  Hay 
street.  We  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  a  soldier 
and  told  him  what  we  wished  to  do.  My  uncle,  my- 
self and  two  servants  were  kept  busy  the  whole  day. 
Three  of  my  neighbors  and  myself  prepared  the 
bread  and  meat.  It  was  enough  to  make  anybody's 
heart  ache  to  see  the  ragged  men.  One  came  for- 
ward. He  looked  like  a  boy  of  eighteen  or  nineteen. 
He  had  a  little  iron  pot  and  I  said:  "Child,  you  look 
so  tired,  why  do  you  carry  that  iron  pot?"  and  he 


42  War  'Days  in  Fayetteville 

answered:  "I  keep  it  to  cook  with."  I  offered  him 
a  twenty-dollar  Confederate  note  for  it,  with  which 
he  bought  twenty  loaves  of  bread  and  divided  it 
among  his  comrades.  When  night  came  on  I  closed 
the  door  with  a  heavy  heart.  They  were  still  com- 
ing. 

About  nine  o'clock  they  sent  for  me  to  go  to  the 
hospital,  and  the  horrible  scene  I  witnessed  there  I 
shall  never  forget.  The  wounded  had  been  brought 
in  from  Longstreet,  where  a  portion  of  Hardee's  men 
had  had  an  engagement  with  Sherman's  men.  I 
staid  with  them  until  just  before  daylight  and  did 
all  I  could  to  relieve  their  wants.  Even  then  I  did 
not  hear  a  single  murmur.    Such  fortitude  has 

NO  PARALLEL  IN  HISTORY. 

Next  morning  I  had  breakfast  prepared  for  some 
of  them,  but  on  reaching  the  hospital  I  found  only 
two  patients  there.  Those  who  were  not  too  ill  had 
been  carried  away  in  the  ambulances,  and  the  worst 
cases  were  sent  to  the  upper  hospital.  Two  ladies 
of  the  neighborhood  were  there  with  the  sufferers. 

I  had  been  in  the  hospital  only  about  a  half  hour 
when  an  officer  came  up  the  steps  and  said:  "La- 
dies, if  you  have  a  home  and  children  you  had  better 
go  to  them,  as  Sherman  is  entering  the  town."  I 
finished  binding  up  the  arm  of  a  soldier,  and  when  I 
got  to  the  door  I  found  the  street  crowded  with  men. 
I  said  to  the  officer:  "Sir,  mount  your  horse  and 
fly;"  but  he  replied,  "I  will  see  you  safely  across  the 
street."  He  was  captured  by  a  Yankee  just  as  we 
got  across  the  street.  I  made  every  effort  after- 
wards to  find  out  the  brave  officer's  name,  but  was 
unsuccessful. 

I  had  gone  only  a  little  distance  when  I  met  one  of 
my  servants,  who  begged  me  to  hurry  home,  saying 
they  were  all  "frightened  to  death."  Looking  up 
the  street  towards  the  court-house,  I  saw  a  Yankee 


Incidents  of  Hospital  Life  43 

Soldier  make  a  man  take  off  his  clothing  in  the  street. 
When  I  reached  my  room  at  home  I  sank  into  a  chair 
and  felt  that  I  must  give  up.  My  nurse,  fortunate- 
ly, did  the  best  thing  for  me,  placing  my  little  boy  in 
my  arms.  I  then  felt  I  must  be  brave.  I  said,  "God 
alone  can  protect  you,  my  children.  He  delivered 
Daniel  out  of  the  lion's  den,  and  if  we  will  only  look 
to  Him,  He  will  deliver  us."  In  a  few  moments  my 
cook  ran  in  and  said:  "0 !  Miss  Annie,  they  have 
broken  open  the  smoke-house  and  are  carrying  every- 
thing off."  One  of  the  men  came  up  on  the  porch 
and  said:  "Madam;  where  is  your  meat?  We  want 
meat."  I  certainly  did  feel  a  little  triumnh  when  I 
replied:  "I  gave  the  meat  to  Hardee's  men  yester- 
day." He  rejoined:  "Hardee's  men  won't  want 
meat  or  anything  else  long  after  we  catch  up  with 
them."  They  entered  the  kitchen  and  took  our  din- 
ner that  was  cooking,  with  the  pans,  ovens  and  all, 
and  they  searched  my  house  from  top  to  bottom, 
taking  everything  they  could  carry.  My  uncle  soon 
got  me  a  guard,  and  I  felt  greatly  relieved. 

OH !  THE  HORROR  OF  THOSE  DAYS ! 

It  is  impossible  to  write  or  tell  what  we  endured, 
and  it  never  will  be  known  until  we  stand  before  the 
judgment  seat  of  God.  After  the  fall  of  Harper's 
Ferry  the  families  and  workmen  were  removed  to 
Fayetteville,  in  consequence  of  which  a  number  of 
handsome  dwellings  were  added  to  the  Arsenal 
grounds.  It  was  a  lovely  spot,  and  we  justly  felt 
proud  of  it.  But  Sherman's  torch  reduced  it  to  ash- 
es. Fayetteville  suffered  more  than  most  towns,  for 
we  had  five  cotton  factories  in  the  town  and  one  at 
Rockfish,  just  a  few  miles  away,  and  they  were  all 
burned  to  the  ground,  leaving  hundreds  of  people 
without  work  or  any  means  of  gaining  bread.  And 
as  we  had  been  robbed  of  all  we  had,  we,  of  course, 
could  not  help  them.    As  soon  as  night  came  on  we 


44  War  *Da$s  in  Fayeiteodle 

could  see  fires  in  every  direction,  as  all  the  buildings 
in  the  country  were  burned.  I  can  compare  it  to 
nothing  but  what  I  imagine  Hades  would  be  were  its 
awful  doors  thrown  open.  But  for  the  kindness  of 
my  servants  I  don't  know  what  would  have  become 
of  me.  They  were  very  faithful.  One  walked  up 
and  down  the  passage  all  night,  and  the  other  staid 
on  the  back  porch.  Still  I  was  afraid  to  close  my  eyes. 
But  for  my  nurse  we  would  not  have  had  one  mouth- 
ful to  eat.  She  hid  some  things  in  her  own  room, 
and  in  that  way  saved  them. 

One  morning  I  had  a  message  from  the  upper  hos- 
pital asking  me  to  come.  I  went  up  and  found  that 
six  men  had  died  and  been  buried  in  two  holes  in  the 
yard  just  wrapped  in  their  blankets.  I  got  there  in 
time  to  close  the  eyes  of  the  seventh.  Soon  after 
Mayor  McLean  went  out  and  met  the  army  and  sur- 
rendered the  town.  The  Federal  officers  insisted  on 
putting  the  soldier  that  had  just  died  in  the  grave 
with  one  of  the  three,  but  I  would  not  allow  it.  I 
went  to  the  Mayor  and  got  a  permit  of  a  coffiin  and 
the  hearse.  Then  Mrs.  Guion  and  myself,  with  two 
of  the  men  from  the  hospital,  followed  his  remains 
to  the  place  where  we  had  been  burying  the  soldiers. 

The  next  day  Sherman's  army  crossed  the  Cape 
Fear  River,  the  bridge  having  been  destroyed  by  our 
own  forces.  Most  of  the  things  stolen  by  the 
invaders  were  carried  down  as  far  as  Wilmington 
and  put  on  a  vessel  bound  for  New  York.  The  ves- 
sel was  burned  just  before  it  reached  its  harbor,  and 
we  had  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  none  of  our 
handsome  furniture  and  household  treasures  reached 
their  destination.  Just  a  few  days  after  Sherman 
left  I  went  to  a  few  of  my  gentlemen  friends  and 
raised  sufficient  money  to  buy  twelve  coffins  and  to 
have  thirty  graves  dug.  I  had  the  six  bodies  in  the 
hospital  yard  and  the  others  that  were  buried  where 
they   camped   disinterred,  making    twelve  in   all. 


Incidents  of  Hospital  Life 


45 


Mayor  McLean  went  with  me  to  the  cemetery  to  se- 
lect a  spot  where  we  could  have  them  all  buried  to- 
gether. We  could  not  get  a  square  large  enough  to 
hold  them  all,  so  he  gave  us  the  back  part  of  the 
cemetery,  overlooking  Cross  Creek,  a  very  pretty 
situation,  with  room  for  all,  and  a  space  large  enough 
left  to  place  the  monument.  Eighteen  were  buried 
in  a  field  across  the  creek  and  we  had  them  all  taken 
up,  and  just  at  sunset  Dr.  Huske,  Rector  of  St. 
John's  Church,  read  again  the  words:  "I  am  the 
resurrection  and  the  life,"  the  coffins  were  lowered 
to  their  resting  place,  and  the  souls  of  the  dead  en- 
tered into  the  rest  of  Paradise  until  they  should  arise 
to  meet  their  Lord  and  Saviour. 


SHERMAN'S  RAID, 


BY  MRS.  JOSEPHINE  BRYAN  WORTH. 

ON  THE  8th  of  March,  1865,  the  vanguard  of 
Johnston's  army,  consisting  of  part  of  Hardee's 
corps,  entered  Fayetteville.  I  was  then  a 
school  girl,  with  ardent  love  for  the  South  and  un- 
bounded faith  in  the  final  successful  termination  of 
her  cause,  which  even  the  sight  of  her  armies  in  full 
retreat  from  Sherman  could  not  shake.— Only  a  few 
detachments  and  some  officers  with  their  staffs  came 
in  the  first  day,  but  all  the  next  day  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  night  the  artillery  and  infantry  of  the 
army  of  the  Tennessee  and  the  defenders  of  Charles- 
ton poured  through  the  place,  making  an  incessant 
moving  panorama  of  men,  horses,  cannons  and 
wagons. 

First  of  all  came  the  "galvanized"  Yankees,  armed 
with  axes,  picks  and  spades  to  repair  and  make 
roads  for  the  passage  of  the  army, — these  were 
northern  prisoners  on  parole,  who  preferred  serving 
as  sappers  and  miners  for  the  Confederates  to  con- 
finement in  prison.  After  these  came  the  artillery, 
then  the  infantry.  We  kept  the  house  open  and  a 
table  spread  for  the  soldiers,  and  all  day  long  the 
house  was  full  of  them.  A  good  many  of  them  came 
to  get  little  jobs  of  sewing  or  mending  done.  A 
party  of  cavalrymen,  I  remember,  brought  their 
blankets  to  be  fixed  after  the  manner  of  a  Mexican 
serape — a  hole  was  to  be  cut  in  the  center  just  large 
enough  for  the  head  to  slip  through  and  the  edges 
bound  with  braid. 

It  was  on  this  day  that  a  skirmish  was  fought  at 
Longstreet,  twelve  miles  from  Fayetteville.    Kilpat- 


Sherman's  Ifaicl  47 

rick's  surprise  and  defeat  on  this  occasion  are  mat- 
ters of  history,  and  need  not  be  narrated  here.  To- 
ward the  close  of  the  day  the  melancholy  line  of 
ambulances  came  in  bearing  the  wounded,  and,  to 
me,  the  still  more  melancholy  file  of  prisoners.  I 
would  have  liberated  them  all  if  I  could.  I  had  not 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Sherman's  bummers 
then. 

The  night  of  the  10th  was  clear,  with  the  moon 
shining  brightly. — The  columns  of  infantry  contin- 
ued to  march  by,  looking  so  worn  and  ragged,  poor 
fellows,  as  from  time  to  time  a  few  of  them  would 
come  in  for  rest  and  refreshment.  A  party  of  gen- 
eral officers  came  in  and  examined  a  map,  looking 
anxious  and  low  spirited.  A  party  of  young  men 
from  the  Storio  Guards,  I  think,  had  been  with  us  all 
day,  some  of  their  number  being  sick.  After  all  was 
quiet  they  tied  their  horses  under  our  windows  and 
we  kept  guard  over  them  while  their  masters  slept 
on  pallets  made  on  the  floor.  How  sorry  we  all  felt 
for  the  poor  boys,  and  have  often  wondered  if  they 
all  lived  to  get  home  or  perished  in  the  single  battle 
that  was  fought  before  the  surrender.  I  have  them 
before  my  mind's  eye  now  as  they  mounted  their 
horses  at  our  door  one  short  half  hour  before  the 
first  Yankee  appeared  over  the  brow  of  Haymount. 
Pringle,  the  Grahams,  Raven  el  and  some  others 
whose  names  we  never  learned. 

The  house  where  I  was  staying  with  my  aunt  and 
her  family  was  on  Haymount  Hill,  the  western 
suburb  of  Fayetteville,  situated  in  full  view  of  the 
C.  S.  Arsenal,  from  which  it  was  separated  by  a  grove 
of  oaks.  This  Arsenal,  Sherman's  objective  point  in 
visiting  Fayetteville,  was  evacuated  on  the  night  of 
the  10th.  On  the  morning  of  the  11th  Sherman's 
army  entered.  The  first  intimation  that  we  had  that 
the  Federals  were  really  in  town  was  by  a  jet-black 
negro  mounted  on  a  clay-bank  horse.     He  had  lost 


48  War  Days  in  FayetletollU 

his  hat  and  his  blanket  was  streaming  behind  him; 
he  was  urging  his  horse  to  its  utmost  speed;  his  eyes 
looked  as  if  they  would  pop  out  of  his  head  with 
fright,  and  at  every  bound  he  ejaculated, 
"Yankees!"    "Yankees!" 

A  few  horsemen  followed  him,  firing  their  pistols, 
as  they  retreated,  at  some  Yankee  cavalrymen  that 
appeared  above  the  brow  of  the  hill. — I  shall  never 
forget  my  feelings  at  the  sight  of  the  latter  as  my 
aunt  said  solemnly,  "Children,  they  are  Yankees.'" 
It  was  like  a  knell  of  doom, 

Hampton's  cavalry  were  camped  west  of  the  town 
and  had  not  yet  passed  through,  so  close  were  the 
contending  armies  together.  After  this,  for  an  hour 
or  more  we  saw  no  more  Yankees  and  the  Confed- 
erate cavalry  passed  by,  the  horses  in  ranks  and 
every  man  with  his  sabre  held  up  over  his  shoulder, 
the  noise  of  their  harness  and  accouterments  mak- 
ing a  sort  of  rushing  sound  almost  as  soon  as  they 
came  in  sight.  After  these  well-ordered  ranks  came 
a  more  disorderly  body  of  cavalry — Wheeler's  I  pre- 
sume— many  of  them  ragged,  some  of  them  hatless, 
and  most  of  them  with  two  or  more  horses.  One  of 
them  stopped  at  our  gate  and  asked  for  a  hat,  and 
about  fifty,  more  or  less,  stopped  to  see  what  kind  of 
hat  he  would  receive.  Now,  the  only  masculine 
headgear  about  the  house  was  a  wheat-straw  hat, 
whole  but  rather  the  worse  for  the  wettings  it  had 
received.  I  ran  and  got  that;  it  was  received  with 
shouts  of  "New  spring  hat  from  Nassau,"  "Ain't  it 
pretty,  now,"  "Give  it  to  me,"  &c.  As  the  soldier  re- 
ceived it  he  waved  it  around  with  three  cheers,  in 
which  he  was  joined  by  all  the  rest.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  I  retired  in  confusion. 

A  blue  line  now  appeared  behind  the  breast-works 
which  formed  the  outer  defense  of  the  Arsenal, 
which  lay  to  the  south  of  the  main  street  and  only 
150  yards  away.    It  was  undoubtedly  the  Yankees, 


Shermans  Raid  49 

for  they  fired  a  few  shots  at  the  now  scattering  col- 
umns of  Confederates,  which  were  returned.  One 
had  the  temerity  to  venture  out  from  behind  the 
breastworks  and  a  Confederate  galloped  up  and  took 
him  pri  soner  in  the  face  of  his  comrades,  who  were 
afraid  to  fire  for  fear  of  hitting  him.  A  demoralized 
Confederate  who  had  stayed  behind  to  see  what  he 
could  pick  up  at  the  Arsenal  rushed  frantically 
through  our  yard.  He  was  bare-headed  and  was 
rapidly  divesting  himself  of  everything  that  could 
impede  his  flight ;  gun,  knap-sack  and  canteen  lay 
strewed  on  the  ground  behind  him.  Our  old  cook 
stood  in  the  kitchen  door  and  watched  him  in  his  mad 
career.  As  he  disappeared  over  the  fence  she  re- 
marked sententiously,  "I  didn't  know  that  was  the 
way  they  fit."  I  hope  I  may  be  pardoned  that  the 
ludicrous  incidents  of  that  sorrowful  time  seem  to 
stand  out  at  this  late  day  with  more  distinctness 
than  any  other. 

Another  company  of  cavalry  now  approached  and 
my  aunt  and  I  ran  out  to  warn  them  that  the  Yan- 
kees were  behind  the  breast-works  to  the  south  of 
them.  Quick  as  thought  they  formed  in  single  file 
and  galloped  down  a  street  towards  the  north,  every 
man  discharging  his  pistol  as  he  turned  the  corner. 
These  were  the  last  of  the  Confederates,  and  I  have 
heard  that  they  crossed  the  Cape  Fear  River  on 
Sherman's  pontoons. 

For  the  space  of  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
there  was  silence,  during  which  we  waited.  There 
are  few  such  periods  in  a  life  time,  and  fortunately 
ours  were  cut  short  by  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet 
and  shouts  and  imprecations,  and  a  party  of  mis- 
creants scampered  up  the  walk,  ran  up  the  steps  and 
pounded  on  the  door  with  the  stocks  of  their  guns, 
crying,  "Let  us  in,"  "Open  this  door  or  we'll  break 
it  down."  My  aunt  then  let  them  in  and  they  push- 
ed roughly  by  her,  and  in  an  instant  spread  them- 


50  War  Days  in  FayettecilU 

selves  over  the  house,  rummaging  and  ransacking; 
everything. — Shall  we  ever  forget  them,  these  "boys 
in  blue,"  with  their  loose  jackets,  slouch  hats,  and 
faces  begrimmed  with  the  smoke  of  camp  fires?  It 
seemed  as  if  the  lower  regions  were  opened  and  the 
fiends  turned  loose  upon  us.  My  aunt  said,  "Where 
is  your  commanding  officer?  I  want  protection." 
"You'll  git  no  protection,"  said  one.  "That's  played 
out  long  ago,"  grinned  another.  She  then  ran  out  in 
the  street  and  had  the  good  luck  to  meet  Lieut.  Mc- 
Veach,  of  Illinois,  whom  I  verily  believe  was  walk- 
ing ahead  of  his  regiment  in  order  to  afford  protec- 
tion to  some  poor  woman  who  might  stand  in  need 
of  it.  He  drove  the  bummers  out  of  the  house  and 
they  ran  into  the  kitchen  where  they  began  ransack- 
ing the  servants'  things  and  taking  what  they  could 
find  to  eat.  A  negro  rushed  in,  exclaiming,  "Oh, 
Miss  Susan,  they'se  took  the  dinner  mammy's  cook- 
ing, and  dady's  Sunday  breeches" — and  seeing  the 
Yankee  officer,  he  interrupted  himself  with  "but 
dady  don't  care." 

The  main  body  of  Sherman's  army  now  began  to 
pass  by  in  martial  array,  with  flags  flying,  the  field 
officers  on  horseback  prancing  at  the  head  of  the 
column,  the  soldiers  proudly  keeping  step  to  the 
music  of  the  band!  and  the  very  first  band  that  went 
by  played  "Dixie."  This  was  too  much — the  drop 
that  over-ran  our  already  brimming  cup;  one  and  all 
we  burst  out  crying,  and  sat  around  pouring  out 
floods  of  tears  as  if  our  hearts  would  break.  Lieut. 
McVeagh  must  have  been  one  of  the  men  who  cannot 
stand  the  sight  of  woman's  tears.  He  did  all  he 
could  to  comfort  us,  even  averring  that  which  he  did 
not  believe— that  the  Southern  cause  was  not  lost 
yet.  Finally  he  desisted  in  his  efforts  at  consolation 
and  strode  up  and  down  the  room  in  despair  until  his 
regiment  came  along,  when  he  left  us  regretting 
that  he  could  not  stay  until  a  guard  was  placed.  We 


Sherman's  T^aid  51 

at  last  were  able  to  dry  our  eyes  and  look  out  at  the 
grand  military  show,  the  like  of  which  we  should 
probably  never  see  again.  A  man  in  a  linen  duster 
riding  at  the  head  of  a  troop  called  out  to  us,  "Gone 
up  the  spout."  "No,  we  are  not,"  said  my  aunt, 
"hurrah!  for  Southern  rights."  In  about  half  an 
hour  an  officer  came  with  a  guard.  My  aunt  began 
asking  if  that  was  the  way  civilized  warfare  was 
conducted — alluding  to  the  bummers—but  he  inter- 
rupted her  saying,  "If  that's  the  way  you  talk, 
madam,  I'll  place  no  guard  at  this  house."  The 
guards  did  their  duty  well  enough,  keeping  intruders 
from  the  house  and  never  failing  to  call  us  when  any 
celebrity  passed  by,  thus:  "Here,  you  people,  don't 
you  want  to  see  Gen.  Sherman?"  or  "I  say,  here's 
Kilpatrick  going  along."  We  had  no  trouble  after 
this  except  that  a  horrid  looking  man  in  a  red  shirt, 
who  had  some  writing  to  do,  brought  his  papers  and 
wrote  at  a  table  in  the  house.  We  did  not  know  he 
was  spying  on  us  until  one  day  he  called  out,  "Look 
ahere,  if  Gen.  Sherman  knew  how  you  people  talked 
he'd  burn  this  house  down." 

At  night  we  would  sometimes  hear  them  bumping 
about,  searching  for  "hidden  treasure,"  I  suppose. 

Sherman,  as  is  well  known,  stopped  five  days  in 
Fayetteville  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  the  Arsen- 
al. Early  Monday  morning — the  third  day  after  he 
entered  the  place— we  saw  a  large  body  of  men, 
seemingly  armed  with  a  new  kind  of  weapon,  coming 
from  the  Arsenal.  On  closer  inspection  we  saw  that 
each  had  a  fragment  of  the  ornamental  wood-work 
that  surrounded  the  building  to  make  their  fires 
with.  Soon  the  work  of  breaking  down  the  walls 
began.  Bars  of  railroad  iron  were  suspended  by 
chains  from  timbers  set  up  in  the  shape  of  an  X; 
with  these  they  battered  down  the  walls,  pecking 
first  a  small  hole  which  grew  larger  as  they  swung 
the  iron  against  them.     There  were  several  such 


52  War  'Days  in  Fa^etteoille 

rams  at  work  simultaneously  around    the    same 
building. 

When  the  walls  were  sufficiently  weakened  the 
roof  would  fall  in  with  a  loud  crash,  the  bands  would 
strike  up  and  the  men  would  cheer  as  if  they  really 
enjoyed  the  work  of  destruction.  While  this  was 
going  on  the  wagons,  cattle,  sheep,  negroes  and 
camp-followers  were  passing  through,  almost  in  an 
unbroken  stream,  such  a  scene  so  seldom  witnessed. 
Carriages  containing  negroes  and  their  "things," 
piano  covers  and  curtains  thrown  over  horses,  bed- 
quilts,  looking-glasses,  even  chairs,  on  the  wagons; 
negro  women  dressed  in  their  mistresse's  clothes.  I 
saw  a  negro  man  with  a  ladies'  hat  on  trimmed  with 
blue  ribbon,  another  walked  off  with  a  velvet  cloak 
on  belonging  to  one  of  my  acquaintances.  Each 
night  the  sky  was  lurid  with  the  flames  from  the 
burning  homestead,  but  it  has  passed  into  a  proverb 
that  Sherman's  route  could  be  traced  by  solitary 
chimneys  where  happy  homes  once  stood.  In  town 
there  were  sevaral  buildings  burned  besides  the  fac- 
tories, namely,  the  State  bank,  several  large  ware- 
houses belonging  to  a  factory  company,  two  dwel- 
lings and  the  office  of  the  Fayetteville  Observer. 
Outside  the  town,  where  no  guards  were  placed,  the 
soldiers  "ran  amuck"  through  everything.  At  my 
uncle's  place,  four  miles  from  here,  they  tore  up, 
smashed  and  stole  everything  they  could  lay  their 
hands  on;  they  cut  up  the  parlor  carpet  into  saddle 
cloths,  broke  the  mirror  over  the  mantel,  broke  up 
the  clock  and  the  sewing  machine,  carried  off  the 
books  from  the  library,  even  the  family  Bible  was 
not  sacred;  one  of  them  opened  it  and  spread  it  over 
a  mule's  back  and  rode  off  on  it  for  a  saddle.  Final- 
ly they  finished  by  tearing  up  clothing,  pamphlets, 
feather-beds,  &c,  and  pouring  peanut  oil  over  the 
derbis.  All  the  bed-clothes  were  carried  off,  except 
one  quilt  on  which  the  baby  was  lying.  One  mis- 
creant worse  than  the  rest  seized  that;  my  uncle's 


Sherman's  Ifaid  53 

wife  held  on  to  it,  but,  he  being  the  stronger  of  the 
two,  jerked  it  away  from  her  and  ran  away  with  it. 
Of  course  everything  eatable  was  laid  hands  on  the 
first  thing.  A  faithful  servant  was  dispatched  to 
town  to  the  house  of  a  friend  for  something  to  eat ; 
he  brought  some  meal  and  a  bottle  of  molasses.  The 
bummers  took  the  molasses  from  him  as  soon  as  he 
arrived ;  my  aunt  made  some  bread  from  the  meal 
and  as  she  was  cooking  it  before  the  fire  a  scamp 
sitting  by  kept  spitting  over  and  around  it,  "Please 
don't  spit  into  my  bread,"  said  my  aunt.  With  that 
he  spat  directly  into  it — the  bread  intended  to  feed 
our  hungry  little  children.  The  evening  they  left 
this  place  a  field  officer  road  by — Burgoss  I  think — 
followed  by  some  men  with  horses  loaded  with 
bacon.  My  uncle  approached  him,  saying,  "Sir,  you 
have  taken  all  my  provisions  and  my  family  must 
suffer  without  anything;  will  you  not  leave  some  of 
that  meat?"  Without  deigning  to  reply  he  turned 
to  one  of  the  men  following,  "Throw  him  down 
a  piece."  The  soldier  obeyed  with  the  air  of  throw- 
ing a  bone  to  a  dog  and  they  rode  off. 

I  wish  to  confine  myself  to  my  own  experience  and 
that  of  my  family,  or  I  might  multiply  instances  like 
these  of  the  conduct  of  Sherman's  men  near  Fayette- 
ville,  such  as  hanging  men  to  make  them  produce 
their  valuables,  pouring  molasses  in  pianos,  convert- 
ing bureau-drawers  into  feed  boxes,  tying  up  silk 
dresses  for  flour  bags,  and  so  on;  verily  the  Yankees 
are  an  inventive  nation. 

One  evening  we  were  surprised  by  a  visit  from 
two  Confederate  officers.  How  refreshing  to  our 
eyes  the  sight  of  the  grey  uniform!  They  were  of- 
ficers on  parole  who  were  permitted  to  go  round 
among  the  people  to  obtain  food  and  other  things 
for  their  men  who  were  prisoners.  With  all  the 
provisions  Sherman  had  appropriated  in  and  around 
Fayetteville  it  did  look  as  if  he  might  have  managed 


54  War  Days  in  Fayelteville 

to  feed  his  prisoners.  During  the  stay  of  the  army 
my  aunt  found  it  necessary  to  apply  to  the  commis- 
sary for  meal.  She  was  told  to  go  to  a  mill 
about  a  mile  away  down  town.  Taking  one  of  her 
daughters  and  a  negro  boy  to  bring  the  meal  she  set 
out.  In  about  an  hour  the  boy  returned  saying  we 
must  get  some  corn  and  an  order  from  an  officer  who 
was  stationed  in  sight  of  our  house.  Having  pro- 
cured the  corn  and  order  one  of  my  cousins  and  I 
returned  with  the  boy  to  the  mill.  We  had  to  pass 
down  the  principal  street  of  the  town,  and  the  fa- 
miliar scene  seemed  somehow  to  have  changed  and 
looked  unnatural  like  places  seen  in  dreams. 

The  town  seemed  literally  boiling  over  with  blue- 
coats.  In  every  vacant  lot  they  had  ^  pitched  their 
tents  and  were  luxuriating  in  rocking  chairs  or 
stretched  on  carpets  in  front  of  them ;  some  were 
lying  full  length  on  the  side-walk  and  would  not 
even  draw  in  their  feet  for  us  to  pass  but  lay  staring 
impudently  at  us  as  we  walked  around  them  into 
the  street. 

We  got  our  peck  of  meal  and  as  we  turned  home- 
ward we  perceived  that  the  Arsenal  was  in  flames. 
It  had  all  been  fired  at  once  and  presented  a  frightful 
appearance,  especially  to  one  whose  home  lay  in  its 
immediate  vicinity.  Frightened  out  of  our  wits  we 
hastened  home  and  began  moving  out  but  some  of- 
ficers from  Col.  Estes'  regiment,  seeing  us  from  their 
camp,  came  and  persuaded  us  it  was  no  use,  as  they 
would  place  a  guard  in  the  yard  to  watch  the  sparks 
which  were  showering  in  every  direction.  Gratitude 
is  never  out  of  place,  so  I  take  pleasure  in  mention- 
ing the  names  of  two  who  were  so  kind  to  us  on  this 
and  other  occasions,  Capt.  J.  B.  Newton,of  Ohio,  and 
W.  B.  Jacobs,  Indiana,  although  we  never  made  any 
secret  of  our  opinions.  The  thanks  of  the  ladies  in 
our  neighborhood  are  especially  due  to  the  f  ormer,as 
he  spent  all  the  time  he  could  spare  from  his  duties 


Shermans  Raid*  55 

in  going  around  among  them,  quieting  their  fears 
and  seeing  if  they  needed  anything. 

After  all  danger  of  the  fire  was  over  and  things 
had  quieted  down  to  their  normal  state,  a  boy  came 
running  to  tell  us  that  he  saw  two  men  setting  our 
stable  on  fire.  Capt.  Carter,  from  Ohio,  had  just 
come  in  and  asked  for  water  to  wash.  He  had  been 
on  the  roof  of  a  neighbor's  house  that  had  caught 
fire  and  was  so  black  he  could  scarcely  be  told 
from  a  "man  and  brother."  He  seized  the  bucket  of 
water  that  we  brought  to  him  and  ran  to  the  stable. 
Sure  enough  a  blue  column  of  smoke  was  circling 
up  from  it.  Fortunately  he  arrived  in  time  to  ex- 
tinguish it  or  it  might  have  spread  to  several  dwell- 
ings. 

The  next  day  they  broke  up  their  camps  and 
crossed  the  Cape  Fear  River.  There  was  a  regiment 
camped  in  the  grove  back  of  our  house. — Sherman's 
body  guard  they  said.  The  night  they  left  they 
burned  a  quantity  of  corn.  They  built  a  large  fire 
in  the  street— J  could  point  out  the  spot  now — and 
poured  on  bag  after  bag  of  corn,  looking  in  the 
firelight  like  a  company  of  fiends.  How  glorious  the 
boys  in  blue  appeared,  burning  up  the  bread  from 
destitute  women  and  children. 

On  the  night  of  the  15th  they  left,  and  seemed  to 
leave  behind  them  the  barrenness  of  desolation* 
Some  few  people  had  saved  their  provisions  by  hid- 
ing them  or  by  accident,  but  the  bulk  of  the  popu- 
lation must  have  suffered  if  some  of  the  citizens  who 
had  managed  to  save  some  cotton  had  not  sent  a 
boat  to  Wilmington  and  bought  provisions — hard- 
tack and  mess-beef  —  from  the  Yankees  who  occu- 
pied that  city. 

The  officers  of  a  regiment  near  us,  wishing  to  have 
a  dinner  party,  borrowed  the  dining-room  of  an  old 
lady  who  lived  near  us.  They  politely  invited  her 
to  sit  down  with  them.    To  give  an  account  of  it  in 


56  War  Days  in  Fayette\>ille 

her  own  words :  "General,"  said  I,  "ain't  you  going 
to  ask  a  blessing?"  "Well,  grandma,"  said  he,  "I 
don't  know  how ;  won't  you  do  it  for  me  ?"  "So  I 
asked  a  blessing  and  prayed  a  short  prayer.  I  asked 
the  Lord  to  turn  their  hearts  away  from  their  wick- 
edness and  make  them  go  back  to  their  homes  and 
stop  fighting  us,  and  everything  I  was  afraid  to  tell 
them  I  told  the  Lord  and  they  couldn't  say  a  word." 

One  officer  offered  my  aunt  $15.00— Confederate 
of  course — for  a  homespun  dress.  He  wanted  it  to 
carry  to  his  wife  to  show  her  what  Southern  ladies 
wore. 

The  soldiers  seemed  very  fond  of  making  presents ; 
"easy  come,  easy  go."  Among  the  things  they 
brought  my  aunt's  little  girl  were  a  gilt-edged  Bible, 
a  copy  of  Hiawatha,  several  other  books,  a  half 
bushel  of  ground-peas,  a  finger-bowl  and  a  large  look- 
ing-glass. For  the  last  we  were  fortunate  enough 
to  find  the  owner.  I  knew  of  their  presenting  one 
young  lady  with  a  piano. 


THE  MONUMENT  AT  CROSS  CREEK, 
1868. 


The  Noble  Efforts  Which  Secured  Its  Erection. 

SHORTLY  after  the  close  of  the  War,  in  the  Fall 
of  1865,  the  ladies  of  Fayetteville,  being  anxious 
to  honor  the  remains  of  the  soldiers  who  were 
killed  in  battle  and  who  died  in  or  near  the  town, 
and  were  buried  in  various  localities,  succeeded  in 
having  them  all  interred  in  the  old  cemetery — his- 
toric Cross  Creek. 

After  this  was  accomplished,  they  desired  to  erect 
a  monument  to  their  memory  and  to  that  of  our 
brave  soldiers  in  general.  They  had  literally  no 
money,  so  many  plans  were  discussed  as  to  ways  and 
means  of  raising  the  necessary  funds,  and  finally  it 
was  decided  to  act  on  the  suggestion  of  Miss  Maria 
Spear,  to  make  a  Silk  Quilt,  which  could  be  "raffled." 
The  first  meeting  for  this  object  was  held  at  Mrs. 
Jesse  Kyle's ;  after  that,  on  every  Friday  afternoon 
the  ladies  and  school  girls  met  with  Miss  Spear  at  the 
residence  of  Mr.  Charles  Beatty  Mallett,  Miss  Spear 
being  a  member  of  his  household,  the  beloved  and 
revered  teacher  of  his  children,  and  who,  though  an 
English  woman,  had  given  her  whole  heart  to  the 
Confederate  Cause. 

The  bits  of  silk  of  every  hue  and  of  every  style 
were  contributed  by  the  ladies,  and  were  skilfully 
and  artistically  blended  by  "Miss  Maria" — as  she  was 
endearingly  known  —  who  designed  and  drew  the 
pattern  for  embroidery  on  every  square,  no  two  being 
alike.  There  were  3,000  squares,  besides  the  hand- 
some center  piece  and  border.    When  the  quilt  was 


58  The  Monument  at  Cross  Creek,  1868 

completed  it  was  an  elegant  piece  of  work  and 
deemed  worthy  to  offer  to  our  loved  President. 

Besides  many  letters  and  solicitations  for  taking 
"shares,"  the  quilt  was  exhibited  in  Wilmington  in 
the  store  of  Col.  J.  H.  Anderson,  and  Miss  Maggie 
Mallett  and  Miss  Maggie  Anderson  were  appointed  a 
committee  to  take  charge  of  it,  and  they  were  aided 
and  encouraged  in  getting  contributions  by  Mrs. 
Armand  J.  DeRossett  and  other  Wilmington  ladies. 

The  shares  were  $1.00  each,  and  finally  the  Quilt  was  raffled, 
the  sum  of  $300.00  being  realized ;  quite  an  amount  in  that  time 
of  desvastation  and  ruin. 

The  Monument  was  made  and  erected  by  Mr.  George  Lauder, 
of  Fayetteville,  N.  C. 

By  some  untoward  oversight  in  the  selection  of  inscriptions,  no 
date  was  carved  on  it,  but  I  have  found  through  the  kindness  of 
his  niece,  Mrs.  James  Smith,  in  Mr.  Lauder's  ledger  this  entry: 
"December  30,  1868,  To  one  Marble  Monument  to  Confederate 
Dead,  also  33  foot  stones — these  being  the  stones  to  the  graves 
around  the  Monument. 

The  Quilt  was  won  by  Mr.  Lewis,  of  Tarboro,  N.  C,  who  after- 
ward presented  it  to  our  beloved  ex-President,  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis, 
which  action  was  most  gratifying  to  the  makers  of  the  Quilt. 
When  Mr.  Davis  learned  the  history  of  the  Quilt  he  wrote  a  note 
of  thanks  and  appreciation  to  the  ladies.  Some  years  after  the 
death  of  Mr.  Davis,  his  wife  presented  the  Quilt  to  the  Virginia 
Room  of  the  Confederate  Museum  at  Richmond. 

Some  of  the  makers  of  the  Quilt,  on  discovering  this,  made 
petition,  and  through  the  interest  and  efforts  of  Mrs,  J.  Allison 
Hodges,  of  Richmond,  the  Virginia  Room  allowed  the  Quilt  to  be 
transferred  to  the  North  Carolina  Room,  and  since  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Kyle,  her  daughter,  Mrs.  H.  McD.  Robinson,  kindly  gave  to 
Mrs.  E.  J.  Hale  the  note  from  Mr.  Davis,  that  it  might  be  pre- 
served with  the  Quilt  in  the  Museum.  Both  may  be  seen  there 
to-day. 

During  the  time  of  the  making  of  the  Quilt,  a  few  ladies,  the 
first  being  Miss  Maria  Spear,  Mrs.  Jesse  Kyle,  Miss  Maggie  Mallett, 
Miss  Maggie  Anderson,  Miss  Carrie  Mallett,  Miss  Alice  Campbell, 
Miss  Kate  McLaurin,  Miss  Mary  Campbell,  and  Miss  Alice  Poe, 
would  gather  quietly  in  the  early  morning  and  decorate  the 
graves  of  the  soldies,  one  of  the  ladies  reading  a  prayer.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  the  Memorial  Association,  which  has  never 
failed  in  all  the  years  since  1865,  to  perpetuate  this  dear  and 
sacred  custom. 

This  Monument  in  Cross  Creek  Cemetery  was  the  first  one 
erected  in  North  Carolina,  and  one  of  the  very  first  in  the  South, 
the  second  or  third,  I  think. 


JVttafagr  to  Wc[t  Qlsmapxextb  ^atmtv 


BY   MISS  SARAH  A.  TILLINGHAST. 


"Touch  it  not,  unfold  it  never 
Let  it  droop  there,  furled  forever, 
For  its  peoples'  hopes  are  dead." 

— The  Conquered  Banner. 


# 


0,  fold  it  not  away  forever 
Keep  it  in  our  hearts'  depth  ever, 


Love  it,  keep  it  for  its  past; 
Take  it  out  some  time  and  wave  it, 
Think  of  those  who  died  to  save  it, 
Glory  in  the  blood  we  gave  it, 
Bind  it  with  our  heart-strings  fast. 


Take  it  out  sometime  and  show  it, 
Let  your  children  early  know  it, 
Know  its  glory — not  its  shame. 
Teach  them  early  to  adore  it, 
Scorn  forever  those  who  tore  it, 
Tell  them  how  it  won  a  name, 

0:0 

That  will  mock  Time's  crumbling  finger 
And  in  future  ages  linger 
On  the  brighest  rolls  of  fame. 
Yes,  'tis  true,  'tis  worn  and  tattered 
And  with  brave  heart  blood  'tis  spattered 
And  its  staff  is  broke  and  shattered, 
But  it  is  a  precious  sight. 


60  War  Days  in  Fayettctoille 

Tis  a  witness  how  secession 
Threw  the  glove  down  to  oppression 
Scorning  at  the  last,  concession, 
Giving  life  blood  for  the  right. 
Oh,  we  cannot,  cannot  lose  it, 
(Oh  how  could  the  world  refuse  it?) 
Can  we  let  the  foe  abuse  it 
Or  its  history  bright? 


No,  in  our  hearts  deep,  deep  recesses 
Its  memory  lingers  yet,  and  blesses 
Those  who  for  it  fought  and  died. 
And  we  pray  the  God  of  Heaven 
Who  our  darling  idol's  given 
And  who  to  us  this  hope  has  given 
That  this  prayer  be  not  denied. 


In  future  years  some  hand  may  take  it 
From  its  resting  place  and  shake  it 
O'er  the  young  and  brave, 
And  the  old  spirit  still  undaunted 
In  their  young  hearts  by  God  implanted 
Will  triumph  o'er  foes  who  vaunted 
And  freedom  to  the  South  be  granted, 
Though  now  there's  none  to  save. 


Though  folded  now  away  so  sadly 
In  future  years  we'll  wave  it  gladly, 
In  prosperous  path  we'll  trtad. 
And  thousands  yet  un-born  shall  hail  it, 
Tens  of  thousands  never  fail  it, 
For-gotten  be  the  men  who  wail  it — 
Hated  those  that  now  can  trail  it — 
Oh,  can  our  hopes  be  dead? 

Written  at  Fayetteville,  N.  C.  1865-'6k 


.'■•■ 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped 
below  unless  recalled  sooner.    It  may  be 
renewed  only  once  and  must  be  brought  to 
the  North  Carolina  Collection  for  renewal. 


JjftW^^ 


tfftr" 


